Snippets of Bleachverse
by Fading to Black
Summary: A bunch of drabble-snippets that I've written for various Bleach characters. Some are funny, some are angsty, you'll have to look to see! One a day. Used to be Randomness Squared.
1. Workaholics

**1.  
**

**Title:** Workaholics**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Shunsui, Nanao**  
Word Count: **276  
**A/N:** This is the first Bleach drabble I've ever written, so woohoo! If anyone has some spare prompts or just wants to PM me or review random words to use as prompts, it'll be very welcome. I plan on updating one every day, as best I can. I hope my writing isn't too terrible.

Shunsui just smiled sweetly at the Nanao who was impatiently tapping her foot on the wooden floor. "Don't worry. Someone would come and yell at me if it were anything important."

Her face scrunched in anger as she yelled at him, arms flailing almost comically from Shunsui's point of view. "That's not the point! You're supposed to do the paperwork _before _people come and yell at you about it!"

"Come on, Nanao-chan. Relax a little bit. After all, you just admitted that what I said was true so there's no need to worry about it anymore. Right?" His voice drawled as complacently as his facial expression.

"Captain!" It was almost a battle cry as she tried to hit her captain on the nose. Instead, Nanao managed to hit a pile of paperwork. Not only did it take the sting out of the blow, but it sent one of her tidy piles into oblivion as undone paperwork splattered across the room like so many snowflakes in a snow globe that someone had just shaken. Shunsui shook his head to get off the paper on his face, mildly amused. Nanao, however was speechless and staring.

"Nanao-chan, you might want to clean up the paperwork first. Then I'll do it."

Nanao's hands shook. "Will you really do it?" Her voice was even shakier, though Shunsui couldn't tell with what. Anger? Anticipation? Despair? Relief?

"Maybe."

Nanao sputtered for a moment as Shunsui chuckled. Honestly, he had at least as much fun teasing his vice captain as Matsumoto did Captain Hitsugaya. All in a day's work, he sighed as he drifted off to sleep once again. All in a day's work.

**END**


	2. Since You've Been Gone

**2.  
**

**Title: **Since You've been Gone**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Ichigo, Yuzu**  
Word Count: **229  
**A/N:** Just another random little bit. I was halfway through the Fullbring arc when I wrote this, which is why it may not make much sense out of context.

"Onii-chan, it's time to wake up!" Yuzu's voice appeared, cheerful and loud and as annoying in the morning as always, right above his head. It burned through his dreams like setting fire to a piece of cotton cloth. Ichigo did love his sister, but even Dad was better to wake up in the morning to than her. Not that he would ever tell her that. After all, he had thought the opposite many times before, often when Dad was waking him up.

"Onii-chan, you'll be late!" Ichigo awkwardly swiped at his eyes with his right hand. His left had been grabbed and shook by Yuzu in another misguided effort to get him up. She let go and he brought it up to his face as well. A few moments later he swung his legs to the side of his bed and stood, stretching his arms.

"Thanks, Yuzu." Ichigo yawned as he ruffled Yuzu's hair, much to her amused irritation.

Yuzu jumped away from him and he chuckled. As she walked out of the door, he started to get dressed and ready for school.

After Dad left, such became their morning routine. And even though he thinks that being woken up in the morning by Yuzu is okay, he would wake up to a kick to the face any day if he thought it meant that everything was normal again.

**END**


	3. Like an Old Photograph

**3.  
**

**Title: **Like an Old Photograph**  
********Prompt: **Colors  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Kurosaki family, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto**  
Word Count: **424  
**A/N:** Random prompt from a friend of mine. Thanks, Ayuki Karpy!

When Yuzu first saw Seireitei, she scowled. It shocked her family because Kurosaki Yuzu didn't scowl. And it shocked the residents of Seireitei how much she looked like Ichigo when she scowled. But she didn't care about that.

It was a family trip. By way of Ichigo, they had all been invited to take a vacation into Soul Society. They all could because of their reiryoku and the residents were downright _curious_ about the bunch. So Urahara and Yoruichi had been brought in on it and eventually they had gotten around to going.

Isshin, playing his goofy-dad persona, had tried to get her to smile. He'd only succeeded in making Ichigo and Karin scowl as well, but that didn't deter him one bit. They always scowled, and he was sure that even if he hadn't tried to cheer them all up they would have found their own reasons to scowl. Yuzu, however, seemed to be almost seething with something. Not quite anger, but not quite anything else.

She'd finally snapped when she saw Toushirou walking up to them.

He'd just been walking around (read: searching for Matsumoto, who was likely drunk and _definitely_ not going to do any work). He had sensed their spiritual pressures on the next street he was turning on, so he had just stopped to exchange a quick 'hello' and be on his way.

It seemed that that was not to be.

"You: why is it all black and white?" Yuzu yelled, pointing at him. "Why is there no color anywhere?"

Toushirou blinked. So did everyone else. Color? He was suddenly reminded of how white his hair was. Was that what she meant? He scowled. If that's what it was...  
"Just because my hair happens to be white-"

She cut him off. "Not just your hair. Your hair, your uniforms, your socks, your skin-It's all black and white. It shouldn't be all black and white. There should be some color!"

"Yeah, yeah." Matsumoto somehow appeared, ruffling the hair of the snapping Kurosaki. "There should be color, but Captain's too workaholic-y to do anything about it, neh?"

Yuzu looked a little lost for a moment "Yeah." She said, agreeing because she didn't really know what was going on and because it seemed like a safe option.

"Well, that's why he's got me as his fukutaichou. I've got enough colors for the both of us." She smiled at the girl over her shoulder as she tossed her very colorful hair and shunpo'd away, much to her captain's very evident dismay.

**END**


	4. The Rationality of Practicality

**4.  
**

**Title: **The Rationality of Practicality**  
********Prompt: **Hood  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Urahara**  
Word Count: **266  
**A/N:** Honestly, this is just a randomness.

Hoods, mused Urahara Kisuke as he touched his hand to the rim of his hat, were so much more _practical_ in comparison to hats. **  
**

For example, when a hood is tossed off of your head by a passing wind, they stay with you. All you have to do is pick it up from the spot where you _know_ it has to be because it _can't_ be anywhere else and pull it back on. You _don't_ have to chase hoods halfway across Seireitei because someone shunpo'd too fast too close to you. It doesn't matter whether it's an accident or not.

Also, hoods will always match your attire. Especially considering that the hood is part and parcel of the said attire while a hat does not necessarily match. No one ever realizes how difficult it was for him to find a nice coat to match his hat.

Hoods also have the added advantage of covering your neck. When you have a hood, no one can slip behind you and put an ice cube down your back. With a hat, you're always open in case someone's feeling mischievous.

Hats are so much easier to _destroy_ or _slice into itty bitty pieces._

Urahara Kisuke knows all of this. He knows he could come up with a pretty awesome hood with some extra function instead of his hat. He knows that life would probably be that much easier for him if he did.

But for some reason, unknown to both him and the rest of the world, he just couldn't give up his wonderful dull green and creamy white fedoras.

**END**


	5. Vantage Point

**5.  
**

**Title: **Vantage Point**  
********Prompt: **Dress  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kon**  
Word Count: **428  
**A/N: **I've been rolling this prompt around in my head for awhile, but I didn't come up with anything until I needed to restitch a stuffed animal of mine my little brother tore apart. I still haven't found all of the pieces. I think he threw them out. :'(

Kon looked out of the window from Ichigo's sister's room. The view was different here, and the angle wasn't making it any better. **  
**

Maybe it was because he associated this view with torture. The torture was not medieval-style prisons and stretching and spiked tortures. Well, not the first anyway. Getting stabbed repeatedly by pins and needles and needles and pins could not be anything but torture by spikes. The laundry machine, where he always managed to snag a paw or a leg, ended up stretching him out. That and when Ichigo's sadistic brown-haired sister pulled him apart to resew him together.

'Better' she had fairly squealed. 'You're not good enough as you are. I'm going to make you better and cuter! You'll be the most wonderfulest stuffed animal ever, even better than the things that Nii-san's friend makes.'

She started with the bow for his ear. She had nearly ripped off the ear and let out the fuzz inside before she had decided that it was enough and sew on a felt little bow. Not only was it excruciating, it left his ear irritatingly sensitive. And he felt the bow like it was a part of him. And it was pink. Light pink and really bright pink in two layers, switched for each ear, with lavender somethings sewed on.

The frilly dresses that she sewed for him weren't any better. They might have been, but for the fact that she sewed them right onto him, not made it and slipped it onto him later. And the fact that Kon was a guy, not a girl to be wearing frilly silky things. He was supposed to be the one chasing the people wearing the frilly silky things!

The dresses were always pretty horrible. But this was a day in the life of Postaf, the stuffed animal Kon became whenever he saw this view of the window. The normal stuffed animal that was dressed up as a girl with bows and a dress and little cloth shoes. The little lion that spent his time staring wistfully out to the outside world from his oblique perch, tied to two other stuffed animals by the paws.

It was at times like these, breaks like these, that he wondered what he had done to gain this terrible vantage point of tantalizing teasing, the kind of denial that brought tears to the eyes in sheer longing for what was just around the corner. He knew that Ichigo would rescue him, as he had always done before, but the time in between always feels endless.

**END**


	6. How High Should I Jump

**6.  
**

**Title: **How High should I Jump?**  
********Prompt: **Cambric  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Hinamori, mentions of Aizen **  
Word Count: **580  
**A/N:** The first thing I thought of was Scarborough Fair, the ballad, when I saw this prompt. So here goes! The hardest thing for this one was deciding on the characters. The italicized lines were a stanza from the ballad.

Hinamori Momo had come to absolutely trust her Captain to the point where her mental fortitude depended on his being there. Which, luckily for her, he always had been.

_ Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,_

She would have done, had done, anything that he had asked. She had gone up against her Shiro-chan, her childhood friend, because Aizen said so. She had hurt the little kid, so lost and lonesome and so good at pushing everyone away, who Rangiku-chan had asked her to watch after he had left his grandmother for the sake of her health. And she did it with so little remorse for it that it scared her later.

But only a little, because her Aizen had asked for it, and when he said "Jump!" she would only ever ask back "How high, Aizen-taicho?"

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;_

Parsley, for taking away the bitterness. Because of Aizen, she was never bitter about the little kid she had taken care of and nurtured as a little brother having surpassed her. She was never bitter about being locked up. She was never bitter when the bad things happened. She couldn't even be bitter with Aizen when he left her, because the parsley he had left inside her core wouldn't permit it. That and the niggling fact that she was sure that he had had a reason to leave.

Sage, for power. She had always been best at Kidou. In the Academy, there was only so much she could do with the Kidou. But under Aizen's watchful eyes she had learned so much more skill and become so much better even with the things she wasn't quite as good at, like her Zanjutsu. It was under him that she and Tobiume had become more powerful.

Rosemary, for fidelity and remembrance. She would always, always, always be loyal to her Aizen-taicho. It was as instilled in her powerfully as Tobiume's name and as surely as hollows have holes. She would not forget that Aizen or let anyone deface the memories of him now that he was gone.

Thyme, for courage. That night when she first met him, he hadn't said much of anything. It was later that he really talked to her, Renji, and Kira. He had said that it was foolish, reckless, and downright idiotic for anyone without a deathwish. But he had also said that he had admired their courage when they did it. He had ruffled her hair as he said so, smiling just so. She held on to that memory, returning to it like a moth to a light that was on every evening, of Aizen complementing their courage and him ruffling her hair.

_Without any seam or needlework,_

She knew that what he had asked of her was impossible, or would have known if she had taken a moment to think about it. And not just from the emotional standpoint. Hitsugaya had so much more power than her, for all she knew he wouldn't seriously hurt her. But she hadn't stopped to even think that far ahead. He had asked it of her, and she would do it._  
_

_Then she shall be a true lover of mine._

In the end, Hinamori Momo would always believe the best of her Captain Aizen, no matter what he had done to make her that way.

And she would always trust him with all of her might, all of her heart, her resolve, her strength, and her soul.

**END**


	7. Longing for Belonging

**7.  
**

**Title: **Longing for Belonging**  
********Prompt: **Throng  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Uryuu**  
Word Count: **255  
**A/N:** Not a very good one, but I wrote this at 1:39 am.

Uryuu knew that he was the one who fit in the least with Kurosaki's group. Kurosaki and Chad had been friends before anything had ever happened to them that involved Soul Society. And Kurosaki had been friends with Arisawa Tatsuki for a long time before that, if how they acted meant anything. Orihime was really close to Tatsuki and she and Ichigo were on a familiar-name basis with each other.

The three of them wouldn't have gotten too much attention, even with the notable absence of Tatsuki when her friends were together. It was Uryuu who really made them get the attention they did. He just didn't belong when it didn't come to hollow hunting.

Or when it came down to anything in public, really. Everyone from school questioned how the quiet, introverted, handicrafts extraordinaire of a geek put up with a loud, obnoxious, brash jock-boy with hair as bright and spiky as his temper and Uryuu's blood pressure. Their group was obviously a noxious mixture, like peppers and honey. (Though, knowing Orihime, she might actually like that.)

But sometimes it just felt nice to be part of a group, in the middle with a throng of friends and comrades instead of a loner no one notices on the sidelines. It was more dangerous, but it felt nice.

And when he was riding the high of how nice it felt to belong, even to that misfit of a group, he forgot to be annoyed about all of the comments he had heard about them together.

**END**


	8. Shameful Feelings

**8.  
**

**Title: **Shameful Feelings**  
********Prompt: **Resentment  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Rukia, mentions of Ichigo**  
Word Count: **367  
**A/N:** I saw the prompt and for some reason I wanted to have these two as the characters. I'm not really an Ichiruki fan, but it is what it is. The title for this one was hard to decide. Green as the last summer leaf in autumn was a bit too long.

Rukia had always resented Kurosaki Ichigo a little bit.

Yes, he was her friend, her closest next to Renji, and for that she was grateful. He had saved her life and gone up against people who should be out of his league to do it. He had always been there, powerful and bright as Hueco Mundo was depressing.

He hadn't even laughed at her when she didn't know how to use one or another real world item and had to ask him. Even something as simple as the juice box had turned out to be. He'd just sighed and scowled or gave that little half-smile of his and showed her. Sure they would tease each other about it later, but that was what friends did.

It wasn't that. It wasn't who he was that made her resent him. In fact, she rather thought his personality was naive.

It was his power, the power that allowed him to sustain that naivety in the face of those she could not hope to even dream of surpassing. The power that came so effortlessly to him, even with as little training as he had ever had.

He had never really had to work tediously for it. It came to him, welcomed itself into his soul, whenever he had any need of it. He hadn't had to practice for months and years to obtain shikai. He hadn't had to work that long either to learn his attack. He had just started to come into his power when he stopped the unstoppable, held the Sougyoku at bay long enough for her to be saved. She couldn't have done it even with a thousand more years of training and a bankai, and she knew it.

She couldn't hold a candle to him even after over half a century of training. It was fair to say that she resented him because of that.

But she always pushed it down, a shameful feeling. She hated having that jealousy, that resentment towards her friend. She thought that she should be glad to have someone like that ready to protect her. That's what she told herself as she turned away from him that day, by the Shiba house.

**END**


	9. Team Captain

**9.  
**

**Title: **Team Captain**  
********Prompt: **Turf  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Karin**  
Word Count: **319  
**A/N:** This prompt was especially difficult for me: I had no idea where to go with it for a long while. Also, I looked up the real names of the people on Karin's team, not OCs. I know that my writing's been pretty terrible, so if anyone has advice can you give some?

Karin turned around, and gave her teammate a high five. The teammate, who was still smiling dazedly at the goal, missed the oncoming hand. It seemed to get him out of his daze when Karin elbowed him on the head. "We've got a match to win, Uehara. You can go cloud-gazing later." She paused for a moment. "Nice kick, though." And Uehara was stuck back in his daze.

Just like that. Pathetic. Well, almost.

The team they had just scored against started at the center again. It was a 1-1 tie after her last goal, and she was determined to keep her team from failure. Even if she was the only one who actually had enough brain cells to realize that soccer was a team sport. It wasn't much of a team if the other people didn't even attempt to do much of their own volition.

Team Captain's the only one who can shoot ever, and my father has the capability to be serious for more than a second. It was a familiar line of thought, but no matter how much or how hard they practiced, somehow it always came down to her.

Well, time to disprove her theory. Toba kicked her the ball when she waved her hand in the air. She tapped it to herself, controlling it, before she yelled out "Uehara!" and kicked the ball in his direction.

It was a wonderful kick, sailing through the air in his direction. She'd managed not to kick up a lot of turf either, so most of the force actually went with the ball. All Uehara had to do was a simple header into the goal.

No, she thought, I take that back. He is pathetic.

The ball had sailed out of bounds, and off of the grassy field they'd used for the soccer match. He'd missed his chance.

Maybe the Team Captain did have to do everything herself.

**END**


	10. Oddness Fondness

**10.  
**

**Title: **Oddness Fondness**  
********Prompt: **Craft  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Ryuuken, Isshin**  
Word Count: **454  
**A/N:** The prompt doesn't really fit the piece, but it kind of gave me a starting point. Sorry for the late update: I was doing chemistry work literally all of yesterday.

Ishida Ryuuken was a pretty stereotypical doctor. He wore his stereotypical white coat and stethoscope over his usual attire. A pair of glasses were settled on the top of his nose comfortably, and he pushed them up from time to time. His hair, though long and white, was pulled back, out of his face while he worked. He was no nonsense with his patients and strict about habitual cleanliness and hygiene.

He worked long hours at the hospital, often well into the night. Sometimes he would be the last one to leave, the last one to shut off his glowing computer screen and turn in for the night.

It was what he did, who he was, how he lived his life.

Kurosaki Isshin was also a doctor, and he wore his white coat and stethoscope as proudly as the next guy, always with a view of the loud floral polo underneath. He was smiles and optimism and childishness all bundled up into a form when it was all good. The little children loved him for that. And when it was not all ponies and rainbows, he could have that no nonsense attitude so latent that one who hadn't seen it wouldn't guess it was even there.

The clinic wasn't always busy, or open, but if something happened he would always be on call. All you had to do was ring the family doorbell for a true emergency, and Isshin would come running. He didn't seem to begrudge it either, if it were truly more than a prank (though most who knew him wouldn't dare).

It was what he did, who he was, how he lived his life.

And so, the first time Isshin and Ryuuken met, Isshin laughed in Ryuuken's face and told the guy to loosen up a bit. Ryuuken didn't waver a bit at the antics and told Isshin to take life a bit more seriously. Isshin and Ryuuken soon became friends. Well, it was more like Isshin had a vendetta against Ryuuken's seriousness and Ryuuken felt that Isshin needed a keeper, a voice of reason to keep him in check.

They both started to grow on each other, despite their differences, and soon Isshin was laughing at arrows that pinned his white coat to the wall and just missed him, as intended. And Ryuuken didn't scowl so deeply anymore when he found post its that Isshin left around his office.

They went about their lives very differently, they had different personalities, but that odd kind of friendship was good enough for them.

Though it did always get them these questioning looks at the conventions with other doctors when they interacted, Isshin didn't seem to notice and Ryuuken didn't seem to care.

**END**


	11. Spare Time

**11.  
**

**Title: **Spare Time**  
********Prompt: **Pastime  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Espada**  
Word Count: **639  
**A/N:** I just started school, so it's a bit harder to find time to write. :( If anyone's reading this, I really could use some prompts.

The shinigami spent the weeks and months before the upcoming war making frantic, hasty preparations, dithering, and training. The arrancar, the ones that had been born so far, anyway, spent them doing nothing.

It didn't take anyone all too long to figure out what to do with their new bodies and abilities. They knew they were all going to be fighting but saw no reason to train. They were so much more powerful than they were before. They'd be powerful enough when the time came. So they spent time tarrying, doing nothing, and generally being bored.

But being bored was generally boring and they got bored...grew tired of it after a very short while.

Starrk was the first to find a pastime. He didn't have to look far. The pillows beckoned at him to spend time with them, and he didn't feel like refusing at the time.

Aaroneiro spent time experimenting with all of the languages 'his' memories could dredge up. However, when no one could understand him at all he decided it was boring. So he started to experiment with all of the human and shinigami forms he'd accumulated. Apparently he was far more amused for a while with making people wonder why they had a plus or a shinigami amongst them that they didn't know. And when he exhausted his numerous forms, he'd go out and eat some more hollows and test out the new ones.

Szayel discovered science. No one wanted to be anywhere near him for the weeks right after that.

Ulquiorra found himself learning how to read. There was a library tucked away in some corner of Las Noches where he could get books from. And he learned painstakingly to make tea. There was a betting pool for how long he would wait for the water to boil. Much to everyone's disappointment, he just read his book when he was waiting.

Yammy incited fights with anyone who would take him up on it, namely Grimmjow and Nnoitra, when the former wasn't trying to find a good hollow cat to keep as a pet and the latter wasn't trying to kill the 3rd Espada, whether it be Nel or later Tia.

Barragan, the old ornery man he was, managed to get in a verbal duel with Tousen. Later, the pair were seen companionably (for them) playing chess. No one quite knew how, but it had somehow involved Gin's hall-changing tendencies, oranges (because otherwise where would Zommari's prized oranges go?), a pair of glasses, a lengthy bit on hair, and one of Aizen's spare uniforms.

Zommari started gardening. Someone had to grow the food for Aizen's plate, and he had enough eyes to keep a few on them at all times.

Harribel, the last of the Espada to be born considering Nel's unfortunate 'demise' and the fact that Aizen had asked her a long while after he asked Barragan even though she had known about it, had a bit of a late start. But she made up for it with intensity. Yells and shrieks and echoing laughter permeated the fortress of Las Noches as Harribel and the girls that comprised her Fraccion bonded over fashion and Human World celebrity drama. She was quite a bit more girlish than she let on to everyone else but they were fine with that: everyone had their own cobwebbed corners. Even if they all knew about it.

And so when the order for war came, Starrk was napping, Barragan was strategist, Tia was smiling, Ulquiorra was brewing tea, Nnoitra was fighting, Grimmjow was out looking for a cat, Zommari was pulling up weeds, Szayel was mixing chemicals, a shinigami form named Kaien from one of Aaroneiro's newer conquests was waiting, and Yammy was glaring at some poor hollow.

For once, Aizen isn't quite sure what has happened to his 'children'.


	12. Target Practice

**12.  
**

**Title: ** Target Practice**  
********Prompt: **Lie  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Hitsugaya, Matsumoto**  
Word Count: **598  
**A/N:** Thanks for the prompt, Devil'sEyeAlchemist13. Sorry for the temporally late update: I've had a busy day. And I really couldn't figure out what to call this one.

"Taicho! I'll be going now!" Matsumoto grinned down at her shorter counterpart. "Be good while I'm gone!"

Hitsugaya felt a tinge of annoyance seep in quickly as Matsumoto buried him in her ample chest. One of these days she really was going to suffocate him with those monstrosities. "Where do you think you're going at two in the afternoon, Matsumoto?"

"I'm out of sake! So, I'm going to buy some more." She took her sheathed Haineko and put it in her obi. "Don't work too hard while I'm gone, or you'll get frown lines!"

Hitsugaya shook his head irritatedly, but pulled back his tongue. There was something in her eyes, or maybe it was her posture, that spoke of something beside idle drinking and her usual general goofing off. No, it had to be the tone. So, instead of the scathing remark that was already half-shaped by his lips along with the long suffering sigh, he tried for complacent. "Just don't get into any trouble."

"Of course I won't!" The girl was bouncy as ever, and pushed her captain into one more embrace-hey, it wasn't her fault that her captain was short-and flounced out of the room.

A mere thirty minutes later, Hitsugaya dropped his pen onto his desk and cracked his neck, finished momentarily with the paperwork. The SI-3 through SI-26 documents were finally done (in triplicate: one for his records, one for Central 46's, and one for Yamamoto's) and he decided to take a break. A short one, but he'd worked straight through lunch so he might as well get it now.

On his way back, munching takoyaki, Hitsugaya decided he might as well check out the bars and the liquor stores. Getting Matsumoto to work was a lost cause, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't at least make an effort. Except that she didn't seem to be or have been anywhere. Maybe she'd just gone home. He pinched his nose in frustration and decided to return to the tenth squad headquarters.

The paperwork still had to be done, whether or not Matsumoto was there.

And that was how he found her-she was on the training fields on the route he happened to be on. Curious, he stopped and watched as the cloud of ash that encircled his Lieutenant unfurled and became several streams racing away from her. Out of the five streams, one of them missed the set-up target completely. Two of them singed the edges. One of them was halfway to the middle. The final one was the only good one of the lot.

He certainly didn't miss the look on Matsumoto's face as she drew them to herself, spun them there for a moment, and sent them out again. Determination. Strength. A hint of sorrow and anger he was sure belonged to Gin's memory.

The look on Matsumoto's face the next time she asked to be let out of work early with that tone and posture and look in her eyes and he didn't argue was priceless.

And, later, when he snuck down to that same practice field to see her work, he noted with satisfaction that all five ash streams hit parts of their targets. Even if Matsumoto had pasted some of her paperwork to the front of said targets. He wished his Lieutenant well silently, seethed at paperwork now as ashy as her sword that _he_ would have to find extra copies of somehow, and turned his back on the scene.

After all, if she was training, then she wasn't doing paperwork. And the SJ-2s and 3s were _important_, dammit!


	13. Through the Horizons

**13.  
**

**Title: **Through the Horizons**  
********Prompt: **Lust  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Gin/Kira, implied mentions of Kira/Renji**  
Word Count: **372  
**A/N:** I've never really written anything with this sort of theme, so I'm sorry if it's terrible. Not really a fan of the pairing though. Either of them, though the second evolved on mistake. Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt, though! It was a definite challenge, to the point where I really couldn't even come up with characters. Anyway, sorry about missing Sunday, and for the short one to make up for it. My town had a huge event yesterday that I was volunteering at all day, plus I was at a kickoff barbeque for a sort-of club I'm in. And sorry for the terribly long AN.

It was wrong. He knew that. It was definitely wrong.

Wrong to want to feel the soft touches muting the stinging slaps that yielded such reddened skin as was under his shihakusho back in _those_ days.

Wrong to just lay down and take it, take the pain and the cruelness and the sadism that turned him into such a masochist, and the brutal playfulness that never showed in the closed eyes as he refused to yell out.

A Vice-Captain was supposed to help his Captain. Oftentimes, indulge their whims when they were stuck in the office doing paperwork. Except that his captain had these other whims. Whims that he knew in his heart were wrong to indulge, but he found it impossible to do anything else.

It hadn't started out that way. It was a build up of unquestioning obedience, that his Captain was always right above anything else. Even that nagging inner voice that said just as it did now: This is wrong. That was wrong then too. And it will always be, in every life and in front of every horizon.

And it was perhaps the horizon metaphor that caught his attention the most, because he knew that where his Captain was, he would never see a horizon. That meant that the horizons were free.

Of pain, of hurt, of memories, they were free, fresh, clean and crisp as a fresh piece of paper from the Sixth. Not that he cared all that much about the Sixth, even with his friend being there.

But most of all, the horizons were free of his Captain, a bittersweet thing. That voice told him to heal when his Captain was gone, when he hit those horizons like a paper airplane going through a whole brick wall with no space for the past to get through.

And, someday, he might forget about his Captain and the feelings that were always associated with his name ever since the second year after he made Vice-Captain. For some reason, he was sure that his friend in the Sixth would be proud.

If Kira ever got around to saying anything to the hot man that grew out of one of his oldest (and only) true friends, that is.


	14. Sprinkled with Snowy Rabbits

**14.  
**

**Title: **Sprinkled with Snowy Rabbits**  
********Prompt: **Winter  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Yumichika, Shuuhei, mentions of Hitsugaya**  
Word Count: **674  
**A/N: **ru-kujaku, thanks for the prompt! As for the characters...challenge accepted. I decided to do two today so I could catch up for missing yesterday. Sorry about that. I couldn't resist the drawing comment though.

Ayasegawa Yumichika was not a happy man. In fact, he was decidedly angry and willing to fight (and possibly mess up his feathers, which looked particularly stunning today) to get to the bottom of this. The fact that Hitsugaya was in the middle of one of his infamous moods didn't help at all.

When Hitsugaya got in one of his 'moods', it was probably because candy was forced down his throat, likely by Ukitake who was always so stubbornly oblivious to the fact that Hitsugaya hated sweets and usually gave them to Yachiru in return for keeping her mischief out of the tenth, because he found one of Matsumoto's infamous sake deposits, or because Matsumoto or someone else ruined his paperwork.

It didn't matter. He couldn't care less why Hitsugaya was in this completely _unbeautiful _mood, making the weather so disgustingly _unbeautiful_ as laced as it was with chill and puffy clouds just waiting to burst out in those _unfortunate_ icy pellets some people called snow. It matched his mood, anyway.

Or maybe his mood trumped them because it melted them. He wasn't sure at the moment, but he didn't care. It didn't matter.

Then, just as the publishing house in the Ninth came into sight, the sky burst like a balloon blown up too much. A cold, wet, white balloon. Hitsugaya probably just lost his control over the reigning of the frozen heavens that now poured onto a Yumichika,who was running in a decidedly _dignified_ and _graceful_ manner that helped his mood none.

Hisagi Shuuhei had it coming. He felt no pity. None whatsoever.

His and his printing press. Well, computer. Soul Society was past using printing presses, and its newspaper/gossip magazine was made using printers created by the Twelfth. Printers that would be destroyed-no, that word was _unelegant_-decimated upon his imminent arrival.

His wet form stepped on a loose rock and fell into the building instead of walking into it. As if the wet wasn't enough to enrage him. (Beautifully, of course) Even his orange collar was dulled and speckled white with the cold wetness, but to fall so _gracelessly? _What a travesty! And, of course, there was Shuuhei.

Luckily for his coworkers, he was the only one there at that point in time. Most of them probably decided that it would be good for their health to miss it in light of Hitsugaya's rage next door.

Shuuhei looked up at the entrance, surprised at the new arrival. Yumichika straightened his feathers and smoothed down his clothes before prowling over to where the Vice Captain was now standing by his seat. "Ayasegawa-san. What brings you here?" His face was innocent and confused, as if he truly didn't know.

With that, Yumichika shoved an open copy of the last magaz-newspaper into the baffled editor's face. "What is this?" He fairly screeched the question. _Beautifully _and_ elegantly_, of course.

Shuuhei took the binding from the murderous-looking fifth seat's hands. It was a page featuring a photo shoot done in the snow created by one of Hitsugaya's other tantrums, and was titled _When You're Sprinkled with Snow... _He still didn't see what problem Yumichika had with it. "Um, is there anything wrong with it, Ayasegawa-san?"

Yumichika puffed up indignantly. "The title is beautiful, as is the picture of snow drawn by Yachiru and the actual pictures were not too ugly, but the bunny drawing is a travesty that should never seen be on printed page ever again!" At this, the narcissistic fifth seat stormed out of the room, _beautifully_, and trekked across the yard, covered in a fine sheen of snow, muttering to himself how annoying and ugly it was to have to take the long walk back to the Eleventh.

Shuuhei spent another moment looking at the rabbit drawing. It was badly proportioned, sure, wore unrecognizable clothes, and seemingly had no place, but it didn't seem to be _that _bad.

After a moment, he shrugged and went back to creating the next edition, wondering what Yumichika's 'word of beauty' would bring him next time.


	15. His Song

**15.  
**

**Title: **His Song**  
********Prompt: **That song...  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Rukia+Ichigo**  
Word Count: **572  
**A/N:** This one felt like a freewrite. :) Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt!

That song pounded in her head, roared a lion's roar over the blood pounding in her neck, hit harder than the bowling ball that had broken her arm a few years before on a visit to the Living World, ran faster than a river after a terrible rainstorm. It touched her nerves and burned them like she had voluntarily stepped in the Captain Commander's shikai and refused to leave.

It was only a song, however, a song to end and be replaced by another, or not. Either way, the first song just drifted out of the mind, into the nothingness of the thin air on the top of Mount Everest, a place in the Living world she had heard of once.

Heard of from the voice who sang the song that she heard, that only she could hear. The song that the others had listened to and discarded months and a year before.

It wasn't right, it wasn't just, it wasn't allowable, and it most definitely wasn't _possible_ for a song that loud, distinct, annoying, and persistently determined voice like that to fade out merely because it got too loud that no one could hear it. Or maybe it could be said that the voice got laryngitis. Either way, the voice wasn't singing its song. It had muted somehow, even in her own mind, because that vibrant personality and appearance wasn't there to keep it going.

That song...it had been pounding so loudly in her head before that she thought it might crack it. Now, it was barely a whisper. _Whisper, Muramasa. _It was an illusion. The song, that is.

There was nothing that she could remember ever dulling the sound anymore, aside from one day a year on the anniversary of his mother's death. But even then, when the song became soft and sad, it was there, ever present, in the bowels of the minds who he meets.

Then, she realized, that she missed this voice. Missed it like Sode no Shirayuki missed the snow during the summer heat. Whenever she thought of him, her inner world warmed up to the point where she would complain of it.

For him, it had been the rain. The rain only added to the melody.

Even so, she only wished for dry skies. That voice was not built for melancholy and depression. It was supposed to be uplifting, confident, strong, emotional, and ...it was familiar. Comforting. Relieving. There was nothing the voice couldn't do, nothing that would stop the song. The sadness was a new element, and not a wanted one.

It was always so much better when the sun was shining. Because when the sun was shining, despite the occasionally overbearing heat, the voice was all of those thing: uplififting, confident, strong, and emotional; familiar, comforting, and relieving.

She loved to hear the voice. It made her stronger. And happier. And stole away the heat so that the snow couldn't melt under the warmness of her turmoil.

At that point, she decided to protect the precious song that meant so much to her, much like he promised to do to her once.

So she waited, and waited, for the day when that song would ring through frozen waters and thawed heavens with the strength it once had, to ring through her own self like a bell after it's been struck.

Until then, she decided that she would not let it fade completely away.


	16. Ruling This World

**16.  
**

**Title: **Ruling This World**  
********Prompt: **I used to rule the world...  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Zangetsu**  
Word Count: **494  
**A/N:** Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt! School's been started a few days now, and I think that for sake of my mental health I'm going to keep going. :)

I used to rule the world. I stood tall over my plains and endless grasslands. I was alone, but I was strong. Strong enough to claim to rule all of it.

I really wasn't quite sure where I was, though. A mind, obviously. But one that hadn't visited me, or heard mentions of zanpakutos? One of a child, an innocence that knows no bounds and has no fights besides basic karate training once a week? That sounds about right.

I enjoyed my light blue skies and my butterfly-filled parks. Sometimes the park benches changed color. Some were a purple so bright it hurt to look at, and the others a light yellow. I chased the butterflies of the open fields when I was bored, I made trinkets of the grass, but more often I just sat and thought. I was the king of my world, but I didn't really know what my world, or even _who _I was.

Then the rain came and quenched the fires, and I knew I hated the rain much more than I disliked the fires. I grew taller, and my view of my beautiful world darkened with my sunglasses. Most days I was glad for it: the parks were slowly becoming buildings, tall empty buildings, and the benches had long since lost their luster and their color.

In the rain, they looked dull gray.

I don't know how I knew-I'd never truly met him yet-but I knew somehow that something truly devastating had happened. When I heard it was his mother, I knew that that was the reason the buildings had come over my grasslands.

In that time, I hated the buildings more than the rain.

I could still rule over this world from the skyscrapers, whose color returned a little: month by month, as he didn't quite recover. But I couldn't quite get up the will in this rain-filled world he made for me.

For that I resented him a bit. I always will, no matter what happens. That's what I thought.

Then that night came, and I no longer had the power to rule over my home. A princess carved from white snow took over for a few months. I couldn't help but to try to call out to you, but neither of you heard my calls. I wasn't sure what to feel when she was taken from the world she had invaded: my world, that I used to rule over.

Then you met me, and I couldn't help but to be proud of your determination and the fact that you tried to help people. I was a bit bitter because it had only hurt me, not helped me, and maybe I was a bit more distant for cause of it. But I felt every bit of pride in you this world could muster and then some.

And then _you_ ruled that world, not me, not anymore. And I couldn't begrudge you it if I wanted to.


	17. Inkwell

**17.  
**

**Title: **Inkwell**  
********Prompt: **Inky  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Byakuya, Renji**  
Word Count: **722  
**A/N:** Okay, a little break-ish thing, since I don't have a lot of time and I have an idea...now let's get it on paper. Prompts will begin again on the 15th, seeing as tomorrow is my birthday and though I'm not sure what I want to do, I'm going to do something.

Kuchiki Byakuya was a busy person. He had a noble family to run, a squad to lead, a hot-head of a Vice-Captain, and nearly as much unreleased stress as the Old Man himself. The last was told to him by Kyouraku the previous night after a Captain's Meeting.

Then again, it was _Kyouraku_, who didn't even seem to know the meaning of paperwork and its importance. Then Ukitake had chimed in in agreement, as was expected. Unohana gave the pair a smile and asked if they needed help making sure that he got some sleep, which they (luckily for him) refused.

They weren't only talking to him at the time, however. Hitsugaya-taicho and Soi Fon-taicho were present as well, and at the bottom end of it. It wasn't a particularly happy memory. It ended with Soi Fon shunpoing out at a speed that rivaled his shunpo, and as they fled, the air became several degrees cooler. They were sure it wasn't a coincidence.

It perhaps bore thinking on, but not seriously. He dipped his pen back into the inkwell and signed another signature, this one part of a packet on barrack expenses. Several parts had been broken in the last month, the most spectacular stemming from a fight-turned-argument between his fifth and seventh seats.

Both of them had their zanpakutous confiscated for three months, and no real world missions for two years. It was perhaps a steep punishment, but they had seemed like Division Eleven members when taking down a good portion of the barracks, destroying many people's rooms and offices in the process.

Senbonzakura hadn't helped at all, in the mayhem afterwards.

And then-"Taicho!" A loud call from the other side of the closed door. Byakuya, who had been absently filling out forms while he was reviewing the incident mentally, accidentally overturned the inkwell he had been using.

He muffled a word that Yoruichi had taught him once upon a childhood (he was certain it was some sort of swear word) and called back. "What, Abarai-fukutaicho?"

"Can I come in? I've got some more forms for ya-they were printed late." Renji sounded winded, as if he had run from the Ninth with the paperwork.

Byakuya sighed. There was no helping it. "Come in." He called, hoping his voice didn't sound as irate as he felt. The door opened to admit his brash hot head of a Vice Captain. Judging from his Vice Captain's countenance, he didn't really notice. "Umm," he started, obviously startled at the mess the inkwell had made of Byakuya's singularly clean workspace. "Here's the paperwork." He settled the stack on the floor. "And, umm, do ya need any help cleaning that mess up?" He gestured at the slowly pooling ink. "Your hands are all inky and your other paperwork's gonna stain."

Slowly, Byakuya nodded, and walked out of the room to clean himself off. Just as he walked two steps from the door, he heard a loud, muffled noise (likely a curse of some variety) and a giggle. Yachiru. And so, he walked in to see Renji face-planted in the ink he was going to clean up, Yachiru on his back.

"Neh, Tattoo-chan, do you have any candy?"

Renji's reply was muffled. Yachiru giggled. "I can't call you Tattoo-chan if I can't see your tattoos! So you're Inky-chan now. Yay! So, Inky-chan, do you have any candy?"

Byakuya sighed and called out tiredly. "Yachiru?" He tried for the young girl's attention.

"Yes, Byakushi!" She was obviously eager. He usually had candy for her.

"Here." He held his haori open to show a pocket hidden on the inside. It had a bit of candy in it. Enough to interest the little girl.

"Yay! Thanks, Bya-kun!" She left the room, giggling at herself all the way.

Renji raised his head. "Is it over?"

Byakuya forced the smile off of his face. He wasn't angry, not anymore, and the sight was rather humorous. 'Yes, Abarai-fukutaicho. She's gone." He decided that once couldn't hurt. "Inky-chan, why don't you go clean your face? If I do recall correctly, we take cleanliness rather seriously in the Sixth."

"Okay, Taicho." Renji slumped out of the room. Byakuya couldn't help but to smile a little in his privacy over that scene later. After he made sure there were no convenient inkwells to knock over, of course.

**END**


	18. Looking Harmless

**18.**

**Title: **Looking Harmless**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Omaeda**  
****Word Count: **346  
**A/N:** Happy Birthday to me! Regularly scheduled prompts begin tomorrow once again.

He lay on the peeling bench in Rukongai near his favorite rice cracker stand, the dull redness creaking under his weight, as always. The clouds stagnant in the sky, as always. The sun beating down on his face, as always. The calls of Rukongai shopkeepers and the giggling of the children who had found enough to eat and the rush of the river, as always.

Everything was normal, just as it always was. He knew that that should be a good thing. 'Boring' was the best state for life to be.

Omaeda Marechiyo was trained Stealth Force, after all. If nothing was wrong, then there were no huge issues to take care of.

But today the admission just made him feel a bit more bored.

He wasn't as truly incompetent as he tried to appear. He had to work so laboriously to create such a reputation, of course. But he was Soi Fon's Vice Captain, and a Squad Leader in the Onmitsukido for a reason. He wasn't a slacker, not really.

The reputation, however, meant that most people saw him as absolutely harmless and would talk more freely around him than any other member of his division (and several others he could name). They evidently forgot that he was the Vice Captain and that Soi Fon could have gotten rid of him if she truly wanted to. If he truly was a pest and a parasite, not just an office facade.

So he bought his rice crackers, his snacks of all sorts, and a good haircut before laying down for a quick nap in the sun. He had appearances to maintain, of course, and it was technically his day off. A reiatsu flaired not far away, in one of the camps they had found fugitives living in. A black-clothed member of the Onmitsukido bowed to him, holding out a message.

Eleven seconds later, the pair of them were shunpoing away. He had work to do. He was a member of the Stealth Force for a reason, after all.

Not everyone is as harmless as they look.


	19. A Visit to Captain

**19.**

**Title: **A Visit to Captain**  
****Prompt: **Dear Agony  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kira, Gin**  
****Word Count: **378  
**A/N:** Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt! I had a bunch of trouble with the prompt this time...so I hope it's okay. I decided that I might as well keep this in the same universe, so this is in the same continuum as #13, Through the Horizons, though not really a sequel. I realize that the prompt doesn't really fit the piece, but it did make me think of what I wrote for Gin and Kira in #13, and I kind of took it from there, to see where I'd go with the characters.

Kira knocked again at the door to Captain's private quarters. As he waited for a response, he shifted from foot to foot nervously. His eyes were down, staring at the floor, one covered by his long bang. His hands were sweaty and shaky and his Vice Captain's badge felt like Wabisuke's concrete block, an indomitable weight on his side. His shihakusho stuck to him in places, so he wrung it out to lay loosely over his lean frame once again.

Time seemed to stretch and contract simultaneously. On one hand, it seemed like forever before the paper door started to slide open. On the other, it felt too quick. That was his nerves talking, he thought to himself. Only his nerves screwing up his perception of time. Right. This was his Captain.

Nothing to worry about. Except why he had called him to his private quarters via hell butterfly. Had something happened? Had Captain hurt himself? What did he need Kira to do?

Kira would do anything for his Captain. Anything.

The door only opened a foot or so when it did, only a big enough opening for Captain's head to poke through, white hair and paler face, eyes shut and smiling.

Kira had heard some people describe Ichimaru-taicho's smile-'grin', as they had called it, creepy. But Kira didn't think so. It was mildly unsettling at times, but so was Unohana-taicho's, and he was used to it. Although sometimes, like right now, it was well-nigh creepy. He looked almost like a malignant ghost with the darkness of the room behind him.

"Ah, Kira-fukutaicho." The grin widened a bit. "Why 'r ya here, _Kira-fukutaicho_?" Kira shivered. The grin and the way that Captain was repeating his name...well-nigh creepy indeed.

"Ummm, taicho," Kira stuttered, "You called me here, just a few minutes ago. Is everything okay?"

Captain's eyes opened a millimeter or two more, and Kira could just catch flecks of color in them before they fluttered closed. Just what color were those eyes, anyway? "Everything's fine, _Kira-fukutaicho_, but wouldn't ya like ta come inside fer a moment?" Kira tried not to shrink from his Captain's study. "Ya did come _all this way_ ta see little ol' me, after all."

"Okay, taicho." _Unquestioning obedience._

That was the night it began.


	20. Paradox

**20.  
**

**Title:** Paradox**  
********Prompt:** Perfection  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Byakuya**  
Word Count: **607  
**A/N:** Woohoo! I actually got this far! I didn't really think I'd manage to continue doing drabbles like this for any length of time. I've got a bit of a short attention span. Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt! Did this one in two sittings, had a game to go to. :)

It was the ultimate goal.

Memories of younger, brasher days flashed past fluttering eyelids. Blowing up at people because he was annoyed and had a short temper. Endless, mindless, _boring_ training and conditioning and studies. _His antithesis_.

It was required.

He remembered sitting in front of the Elders, quiet for once when he was supposed to be. They had frankly intimidated the child in him. He saw them as a cage, but as a cage he couldn't shed. And as a cage that kept shrinking no matter how hard he tried or trained or conditioned or studied. He remembered them not yelling at him, as he expected, as he would have known how to deal with, but with disappointment and some little disgust. It had niggled at him for a long time after that particular meeting, as he was sure it was supposed to. _His chains._

It was impossible.

He had lost count of all of the times Yoruichi had stolen his hair tie and gotten away with it, that childish werecat. How many times he was behind and trying to catch up. A particularly hard subject in his studies that he just couldn't finish quickly enough. The disappointment and disgust that day. The look that his Ojii-san sometimes gave him, when he had messed up particularly spectacularly. _His step behind the others._

It was a terrible, harsh reality.

He was alone constantly, people never daring to get close enough to him to get to know the 'young Kuchiki boy, poor orphan he must be'. And later, there wasn't an ice pick or all of the flames of Ryuujin Jakka's repertoire that had the will to try to bypass his new exterior. It was carefully schooled all of the time, one of the things that Byakuya had taught himself after Grandfather had passed away, which had happened during an incursion by high-class hollows and a few Arrancars. Not like the ones they faced now, but devastating enough and much more surprising and newfangled. _His loneliness. _

It was a bitter burden to bear.

He watched his foolhardy Vice Captain go about his day, doing as little paperwork as possible, training, talking and laughing and drinking and out-drinking (or trying to, anyway) his friends. He couldn't help an inward smile. He reminded him of a less tan, less tattooed, black-haired, tempermental child he had once known, before that child had faded away into some darkness in his soul. So when he might have disciplined him, he perhaps let him off too much. _His reflection._

It was a paradox.

He had thought he had obtained perfection when he had learned to keep his emotions under lock and key, buried deeply enough that even thoughts of Rukia had trouble bringing them out sometimes. After he had learned to become the 'perfect Kuchiki heir and clan head' Then he watched his Vice Captain, doing all the things the younger him would have done, much less and much more, and wondered if doing what he thought was right would be perfection. He watched the somehow even rasher fire-haired ryoka boy, and wondered over the determination in his eyes, the certainty and need for him to understand in his words. Was that perfection? He thought of Rukia, becoming more powerful as she learned Sode no Shirayuki's name, as she trained and laughed and lived as hard as she could. Was that perfection as well?

But eventually, he realized that there was no such 'perfection'. After all, there will always be something you can't do, he thinks as he watches all of the people around him do things he wouldn't dare attempt. _His perfect paradox._


	21. Anniversary

**21.  
**

**Title: **Anniversary**  
********Prompt: **Fall (season)  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Rukia**  
Word Count: **459  
**A/N:** Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt! Happy Rosh Hashanah to all who celebrate! I had a bit of trouble choosing a character, but eventually it worked out as well as I had dared hope. I hope it's not too much out of character angst.

It was autumn. It was when sharply dressed green leaves turned late-bruise yellow and rotting brown. It was when you started pulling your sweaters and scarves closer to yourself to escape the chill newly brought by the winds. It was when children suffered the catastrophe of becoming students again. It was when everything ended and the mundane began, wiping sunshine from the skin and smiles from faces.

It was autumn and autumn only regaled change.

Through all of this, however, she had to forcibly remind herself that change was not all bad.

She stood lonely on a rooftop in Karakura town, hands brought back up into the arms of her shihakusho to keep them warm. It was night, and she could just barely see her breath in the light pollution from the streetlight to her right.

It was where she had entered Karakura town for the first time, exactly a year ago today.

She didn't quite know what to think as her slightly-longer hair wavered in the slight breeze, how her shihakusho billowed, and a leaf flew into her face. She picked it off and let it fly once more, joining the dancing filigree on its way to nestle in the cold-hardened grass, joining other rotted, dead leaves. It was like the vines of the Menos Forest.

No. She shook off of the thought. It was reminiscent of it, but not quite the same. After all, she had chosen to go to Hueco Mundo, chosen the actions that had led to that encounter. She had chosen to go and rescue Inoue Orihime with Renji, Ishida, Chad, and Ichigo. She hadn't truly chosen any of the beginning. It had just sort of happened.

No, she could have refused. She could have bound him with a more powerful spell or knocked him out. She could have let the hollow eat him and get it while it was distracted. She could have hit in a way that would have left her unharmed despite some harm to the soul. She could have purified the hollow from behind if she'd tried hard enough and gone fast enough. She could have cut the arm off of the hollow first.

She could have died there and let be.

But she had chosen not to.

And so here she was, among the seething fires of yellow leaves, orange leaves, red leaves, _dead_ leaves falling all around her and bowed her head to the decision she had made one year ago. A decision that had shook Soul Society to its foundations and to the leaves, which were starting to fall off. Dead leaves.

The fire, she thought, gazing absently at the place where it had all began, truly does not discriminate in who it burns. _I'm sorry, Ichigo._


	22. It All Starts with Rangiku

**22.  
**

**Title: **It All Starts with Rangiku-san**  
********Prompt: **Fall  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kira**  
Word Count: **665  
**A/N:** I had come up with a bunch of ideas for the last one before I saw the word 'season', so I'm going to write one about a non-seasonal 'fall'. Let it be noted, however, that I'm half-asleep as I write this. Probably more. And not doing homework. And my Mom's yelling at me because I'm not doing something she wants me to.

Kira blinked up at overly bright fluorescent lighting and promptly shut his eyes, putting one hand over them to hopefully blur out the afterimage. It didn't work. He took it off of his forehead after a moment and returned it to his side. The futon he was in was not his own: it was softer and more cushioned than he liked. So if he wasn't in his own futon...then where was he? The last thing he remembered was walking into a bar with...Rangiku-san...oh.

The headache pounded harder as it reminded him of its existence. He identified it now as a hangover. But...that still didn't explain the bed. He chanced opening his eyes.

The headache solidified into an undignified throbbing and he felt miserable. He blinked his eyes a few times to clear off the crusty bits that had accumulated. It looked like a classic doctors office.

The Fourth Division.

He suddenly felt awake, like someone had poured ice water on him, or had suddenly blared a loud sound straight into his ears. Why the heck was he in the Fourth?

His arms went to push him up from the futon, but he could barely wiggle his legs when he tried. After seeing how hopeless it was, the Third Division Lieutenant ceased to struggle against the futon, and chose to fight the rising panic and worry over his situation and the state of his paperwork in his division.

And trying to find out why he had been stupid enough to follow Matsumoto and whomever else was there into a bar. That was stupider for a lightweight like him than challenging Zaraki-taicho to a sparring match.

He didn't realize he had fallen back asleep until he woke up, a medic at the foot of the futon. He couldn't see what was happening. "Ummm, hello," he stammered out in greeting.

The doctor stopped momentarily, but she didn't look up. "Oh, good afternoon, Kira-fukutaicho." She resumed working again.

"What are you doing?" Confusion was evident on Kira's face.

"You don't remember?" The doctor looked up this time, studying his portrait. "You were on a roof and you fell. You bruised yourself several times, but you also broke a bone in your leg, the fibula, and had a hairline fracture on the tibula of the same leg." She paused, chuckling morbidly. "I think I heard that there was a few people on that particular roof sharing sake at the time."

"Oh," Kira blushed, embarrassed. "I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble..." He drew off.

"No, not quite." The doctor grinned wickedly. "You were a very amusing drunk. That is, until you had to be sedated so we could set your leg." She gestured to the newly re-wrapped leg. "Light duty for four months, crutches. We'll check up on you then."

"Oh, okay." Kira fell silent. "So when will I be out of here? I'm sure the work has piled up and my division needs me."

The doctor laughed. "You're staying a couple more hours so that Unohana-taicho can check your wrappings before you go." She picked up a packet and headed out. "I suggest you get some more sleep while you can-you don't want her to find you with a hangover."

"Okay." Kira agreed. Unohana-taicho was creepy. "Wait, what did you mean when you said I was an amusing drunk?"

The doctor was already out of the door. Still he was sure that she had heard his question. Raucous laughing floated back to him, and he ducked his blushing cheeks back into the pillow as he tried to fall asleep again.

He just hoped that he hadn't said anything too terribly secret or terribly embarrassing. He was once Fourth Division, of course. He knew where the Seireitei rumor mill started, and it wasn't as much Rangiku-san as she got the credit. But the Fourth Division medics liked it much better that way.

No one was harking on them about patient-doctor confidentiality if they thought it was Rangiku-san's fault.


	23. He's Just a Kid

**23.  
**

**Title: **He's Just a Kid**  
********Prompt: **Pain  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kensei**  
Word Count: **763  
**A/N:** Thanks to ru-kujaku for the prompt! She asked for the specific character as well. Umm...this is late (temporally speaking) because I took a long nap this afternoon after a club meeting...my inner clock is extremely off.

He lay near the pile of rubble that was once a building before he was forcibly pushed through it and the three others before it. And, quite possibly, the three before that. He wasn't quite sure anymore. It didn't truly matter.

He was floating. That was the only explanation that he could come up with for the feeling. He was numb: his legs, his arms, his neck. He couldn't move a thing. And he didn't want to. Didn't want to deal with the truly explosive reality that moving would return him to. So he floated a little longer.

The battle was lost. It was probably long lost. Knowing it was perhaps worse than anything else. He'd failed. He'd failed and left the entirety of the hardest battle down to a _kid. _An orange-headed brat with the curse of having a shinigami for a father, else he wouldn't have gotten stuck in this mess. He wouldn't have seen the hollows he did, he wouldn't have had shinigami powers to awaken, he would never have ended up like them, cursed with a serial murderer's presence in the back of his mind and the middle of his soul.

No, don't move. Don't move, don't twitch, don't stretch, don't yank on a single muscle, a single cell, or it'll come back.

He was floating. Floating on a bed of candy floss clouds, bitter as ground garlic and black pepper mixed and easily breakable as a single sheet of wet tissue paper.

He had _known_, somewhere in his heart, that it would end like this. Well, perhaps not _quite_ like this. Yet he had understood from the beginning of the battle that they would seriously not win this anytime soon. After all, if it were that easy to kill Aizen, they would've done it years ago and skipped the whole 'living in exile' bit. They weren't his best century.

The haze is clearing, the first vestiges of pain return. Panic! No, don't panic. let it come if it must, relish in the corner that remains hazy, the corner that remains safe.

Aizen and Gin were gone, as was Isshin and Ichigo.

He was sure that Ichigo had been there, no matter what else had happened. Isshin was a surprise, but for some reason he was sure that that one had been there as well. Had he died? No, surely not. Isshin was as tough as anyone, and as good as his son at taking a beating, if he remembered correctly. It would have taken more to kill him.

A wave of faces came over him with the first wave of true pain, the kind that makes you moan in agony such that you are incapable of screaming. Not that he would scream. He still had some remnant of his pride left.

Mashiro, face dirtied. She was exhausted and bruised, nothing worse. She really just wasn't able to fight at such a high level, despite having a century since she had been a Vice Captain. They really hadn't been looking for self-improvement.

Hiyori, blood seeping into her track uniform through the slash that opened up her chest.

Rose and Love, working together, falling as their shikais are used against them.

Lisa, unable to buy the time she needed, presumably, or just overpowered. He hadn't seen that one, or heard.

Hachi, unable to do any more kido due to the arm he sacrificed to defeat his enemy.

Shinji, in that final attack to try to get him injured before Ichigo had to face him. Aizen. That's what he guessed by the battle cry.

Pain, that's all that was left to him. Icy fire on every pore, every hair a ten pound weight stuck to his head.

And now the sent a child out to do their business. Why? Because no one else could.

His vision darkened, and he focused on breathing. He wouldn't die, not now. He didn't know if Shinji was alive, he was in too much pain to sense spiritual pressures. Either way, that kid was going to need a lot of help when he got back. And damn it if he wasn't going to have a hand in it after all.

The pain was not all physical, but psychological as well. He felt like laughing and crying and cold and hot and black and white all over like burnt pancakes with white chocolate chips melted and reformed and melted and reformed and melted again.

The kid deserved that much, after all.

He fell into the pain and splinted his raft, falling headlong into the river of unconsciousness.


	24. Stormy Weather

**24.  
**

**Title: **Stormy Weather**  
********Prompt: **Can you do a Stark/Nnoitra, yes with Nnoitra on the bottom? Something fluffy with Nnoitra being afraid of thunder storms, they live in the desert so I imagine any storms being very bad.  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Nnoitra, Starrk**  
Word Count: **752  
**A/N:** This was less of a prompt and more of a challenge on the part of Alice in Realityland. Sorry for missing yesterday! Life called. This...was not fluffy. By no means. Erm...sorry about that. How do you write something fluffy?

Nnoitra shook out his hair in the darkish hallway. It, like the rest of him, was soaked. Yes, _Aizen-sama _had decided to put in a piece of the sky as a roof to some of the rooms, including the one Nnoitra usually trained in. Most of the time he truly didn't notice and he surely didn't care that it was there. But now? He clenched his teeth in rage.

Precious little powerful _Aizen-sama _had left out one _little itty-bitty_ thing. That it rained. And when it rains, it pours like blood out of a severed carotid. However, it wasn't the rain that Nnoitra had a problem with. It was what came so often with the rain.

Thunder.

It was a remnant from his days as an Adjuchas, and one he was particularly not fond of.

Due to its large size, Hueco Mundo had sandstorms on a daily basis. Hollows all recognized that, and often stayed down in the Forest for a reason. However, many Adjuchas have always chosen to live above it after their evolution. They could survive it, they thought. It was a status thing. They could live where no one else could. And how often did a sandstorm come where one happened to be, anyway, without enough warning to jump down?

Once too often, as a much younger Nnoitra had found out.

He had been a very different hollow then. He had had shorter hair and a better attitude, and more to live for than a fight. He and two others had been stalking a pair of weaker Adjuchas. Then the wind suddenly went from 'kicked up a little bit' to 'full blown sandstorm' in a short amount of time.

The next thing he knew, one of his pack members had been swallowed up, along with one of the other Adjuchas. The crunch of their masks sounded too much like the thunder from the clouds inside the training center...

He and his pack member had fought over the last Adjuchas. However, in a fit of luck, the weaker Adjuchas had managed to sneak up on Nnoitra's pack mate and start eating him. Nnoitra joined in. When they were done, Nnoitra had found out that his name was Tesla, and the two of them traveled and ate Adjuchas. He wouldn't eat someone like him just like that. Distasteful shit. Just like the mud after the rain...

Nnoitra shook his head to clear it, scowling. He was meant to _fight_, not to spend his time reminiscing. He nearly jumped out of his hierro when he heard the drawling voice of the Primera, "What are you doing, Nnoitra-san?"

Nnoitra bit back with a "What does it look like, Primera?"

"Looks like you're lost." Starrk yawned.

Nnoitra was about to shoot off another sharp reply when a bolt of lightening he _felt _in his bones and a roar of crackling thunder _likeCasimiro'sbonesbreaking_ and flinched, jumping a little bit.

Starrk noticed, of course. "Come along. You're going to get some sleep." Starrk grabbed Nnoitra's wrist with his left hand.

"Like hell I am!" Nnoitra snorted, but his voice jumped three octaves for a moment when the next blast came. He tried to shake his wrist loose violently, but to no avail. Starrk only yawned and dragged him back to his (Starrk's) pillow-padded room.

Nnoitra first felt caged when he realized that Starrk wouldn't let him out. A worst case scenario, and the sleepy man would just raise his reiatsu so that Nnoitra couldn't move. He was frustrated and embarrassed and angry at the same time. But, as the storm came to its head, he realized that Starrk had yet to let go of his wrist, and Nnoitra didn't fight this one time when Starrk managed to pull him down onto the pillows.

He refused to say that it was anything but a momentary weakness from a passing bolt of lightening.

Either way, he found out that he was sleepy, and Nnoitra just fell asleep at last, Starrk's hand around his wrist.

Needless to say, he was surprised in the morning when he realized that he and Starrk had rolled such that he was pinned under the more powerful man, who was still sleeping. Once he realized that Starrk was well and truly stuck on him, he resigned himself to it, unable to properly reach his sword to skewer him. And then, he realized that for once he was truly fine with not being on top. Two hours later, the thunderstorm had finally come to pass.


	25. Awake

**25.  
**

**Title: **Awake**  
********Prompt: **Surprise Attack  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kenpachi, Various Espada**  
Word Count: **592  
**A/N:** Thanks for the prompt from ru-kujaku! This was a weird one to write. Kinda cracky. And weird. I will make up for missing that day at one point, I promise.

Grimmjow, Nnoitora, and Yammy were all grinning maniacally. That was the normal part. Them being in Seireitei in the middle of the night, hiding their presence whilst trying to hold in their snickers and smirks (and failing as miserably as Harribel did the one time she tried to dress up as a boy...a story for another time).

Ulquiorra, the only one of the gathered Espada that still managed to keep his countenance calm-even Tia had a smile on her face-took charge, despite not being the highest-ranking Espada present. "It's time to return to Hueco Mundo. Szayel will be joining us there later, since he has more preparations to make." A few murmured 'lucky bastards' later, the garganta closed and they turned their back on Seireitei for now.

The next day, all was ready. Seiretei had woken up to its surprise and the Espada were all prepped and ready to go on their oncoming incursion.

Well, all Seireitei hadn't really woken up. The customary Captain's meeting had not gone on. The hall was empty. Zaraki Kenpachi was uncertain at the emptiness, for once. Where the hell were all the Captains? Why hadn't he gotten a notice that it had been cancelled? He stalked over to the First Division, hoping to get a straight answer from the Soutaicho.

It probably wouldn't be one of his best decisions, but the fight would be well worth it.

Except for one thing: when he pushed the doors open, there was no one there. What the hell? Grumbling to himself, Kenpachi dragged himself over to the second division. He wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Soi Fon was splayed out on a spider's web, wearing her typical black shihakusho without her haori and with a cape with a golden clasp in the shape of a bat. Needless to say, he backed out of there really quickly.

At the door to the division he had made for his exit, he came across Shihoin Yoruichi. A slumbering Yoruichi dressed in a blue-and-red corset with a black wig, high red boots with heels, tied loosely by a golden rope.

He had ran, and he hadn't seen any divisions until he came across the Seventh. He didn't bother enter it, door blocked by a Iba wearing an obnoxiously red and yellow costume of metal, and Komamura a similar silvery one.

He had finally given up on his fellow Captains after Aizen wearing the loud blue one with the red cape and the golden S outlined with red on a gold diamond on his chest. Wait...Aizen? What was he doing here?

On cue, the spooky music started and hollow masks started to rain from the sky.

Grimmjow and Nnoitora had spent _ages _defeating all the hollows they had had to to get the masks. Now they were being wasted, flung against the ground and broken. But the look on Kenpachi's face was well worth it.

And the confusion was nearly immortalized. Nearly.

Yammy had swung his zanpakutou at Kenpachi, who hadn't so much as flinched when he returned to reality.

"So this is yer doin'?" He drawled, picking up his jagged-edged sword. "Psychological shit?"

"No, that was Aizen's idea." Ulquiorra's voice broke into the silence.

Yammy didn't wait for Kenpachi's response. He just charged him and started the fight. Ulquiorra shook his head minutely and took a syringe from his uniform's hidden pocket. He found another shinigami and deftly injected the cure into their bloodstream.

Psychological shit indeed, he thought as the shinigami groused and surprised himself with being the only one awake.


	26. Mr Tea and Mr Shoe

**26.  
**

**Title: **Mr. Tea and Mr. Shoe**  
********Prompt:** Friendly Mushroom  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Isane, Unohana, Isane's imagination  
**Word Count: **628  
**A/N:** Thanks to ru-kujaku for the prompt! This was silly. :) I really didn't feel like writing today...and just so you guys know I will make up for that missed day on Yom Kippur. Happy New Years -belatedly- !

"Hello!" The custard covered pea called out to the light green potato. The potato had a mouth cut into its front, and it wore purple clothes. It's mouth opened and turned out to be a darker shade of green.

"How do you do, Mr. Tea?" The potato called out at the pea.

"I'm doing quite well, Mr. Shoe." The pea replied. "In fact, I was about to go pick up my children from school. Do you want to come with me?"

"Sure!" The potato waddled, following a bouncing pea to the sunflower plant near Mr. Birch, the old oak tree, and his wife, Mrs. Maple, the redwood. She followed them. "Let's go get our little flowers!"

"Incoming!" The pea replied, smiling brightly despite the custard dripping into his eyes. How he did that, she wasn't sure. She wasn't at all certain she wanted to know either. Mr. Tea and Mr. Shoe are disturbing enough on their own without their added quirks explained.

Except, when they arrived, the sunflower was gone. There was a mushroom in its place. A mushroom? When had that gotten there?

"Hello?" Mr. Shoe said walking up to the mushroom, albeit cautiously. It was a creamy color with a bright red top speckled with yellow much like a strawberry's seeds if they were mustard-y, not spring-y colored.

"Hello!" The mushroom turned to them and smiled. "My name is Shroomy. It's 'cause I'm roomy. Wanna see?"

"Oh, maybe later." Mr. Tea replied. "I'm looking for my little flowers."

Shroomy smiled. "Do you mean these?" A bunch of green balls appeared from under the fruiting body. "They were flowers until a few moments ago. Here! Have them!"

They were, in fact, Mr. Tea's kids. However, they had grown to be peas so quickly, and were five times her size, not to mention Papa Tea's size. And then they started to roll, and she found herself running away from them. Then she ran into a tree and jerked into awareness.

Kotetsu Isane sat up in her bed, mind still full of smiling mushrooms named Shroomy and green potatoes, filled with more green. She shook herself awake and walked outside, over to the pond where she would go whenever the dreams bothered her.

Her Captain was waiting for her. Somehow Unohana-taicho always knew when Isane was having one of her nightmares concerning food. Isane always thought they were weird, but Unohana-taicho put up with them, said they were normal, and smiled and had tea with her in the middle of the night until she felt comfortable enough to risk sleeping again.

"Isane-fukutaicho? Do pour yourself some tea." Unohana-taicho smiled benevolently at her.

This was one such night.

"Thank you, Unohana-taicho." Isane sat at the place next to her Captain.

"What happened tonight, to get you all riled up?" A small knowing smile that wasn't at all hostile, the same one Isane didn't know how Unohana-taicho ever managed.

"I had a dream tonight! It was horrible. There was Mr. Tea, a pea covered in custard, and Mr. Shoe, a green potato. Even his insides were green! And then..." And then she described the dream. And, inexplicably as always, she felt much better getting it off of her chest.

"That's a vivid dream, isn't it, Isane-fukutaicho? I do hope it wasn't so terrible you can't get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day!" And it was. Tomorrow was a bunch of Rukongai patrols in the farthest districts, and if there weren't any hollows, people would still get into fights with the locals. It was petty and annoying, but no more so than the Eleventh.

"Okay. I will. Goodnight, taicho!" Isane got back up and started walking away, back to her room.

Unohana smiled at her comrade. "Sleep well, Isane."


	27. The Idiots and Incompetents of Seireitei

**27.  
**

**Title:** The Idiots and Incompetents of the Seireitei**  
********Prompt: **Oops...  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Yamamoto, Captains of Soul Society**  
Word Count: **391  
**A/N:** Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt! Sorry for it being short, I lost my first version of this due to my computer's tendency to get the 'blue screen of death' due to a ventilation issue that won't stay resolved. To Ashlee, my guest reviewer, thank you for reading the snippet, but please elaborate on what you said. I don't understand.

Seireitei was filled with idiots and incompetents, Yamamoto decided one day, starting with his own surrogate sons.

Everyone was used to Shunsui's habits of drinking constantly and getting no work done. The only one who still bothered to try to make him was his Vice Captain, and disapproving as he may be of his behavior, Yamamoto can't help but to wonder if he should just tell her not to bother anymore.

His other 'son', Jyuushiro, was better. He still didn't get a lot of his work done either, though his illness was a valid excuse. But he had half a mind to tell him to just choose a Vice Captain already and be over with it. And to get rid of those damn third seats. He could hear their arguing from his office...with closed doors.

Soi Fon was usually competent, but whenever Shihouin Yoruichi was so much as mentioned her transformation from cold, almost callous, Captain of the Second and Leader of the Onmitsukido into a _fangirl_. It was truly terrible.

For all he wanted to seem like an adult, Hitsugaya Toushiro was truly a child. His midday naps have missed him innumerable Captains meetings. In fact, the only reason he hadn't said anything was his 'son's' doting presence. Despite the fact that the saucy boy had yet to actually _accept_ any of the candy. How rude.

Kenpachi...was Kenpachi and didn't bear mentioning on.

The same could be said for Kurotsuchi.

Kuchiki Byakuya wouldn't fit, except for his frequent angst sessions, and the fact that behind closed doors, people laughed about a sword of flower petals. And he knew it too. But it was 'beneath his honor and his pride' to seek help from the Fourth. Figures.

Komamura was an oversized dog at times, at least as much as he seemed. It was rather disconcerting.

About the only sane Captain was Unohana, but with her skills at manipulation, she had enough control over even him that she might as well be the puppeteer. She didn't even fight. She obviously didn't count. Besides, a non-idiot, non-incompetent captain would be necessary for the Healing Division above all others. He shuddered to think of what might have happened if, say, _Kenpachi_ was the Captain of the Fourth.

Yamamoto sighed deeply. It was going to be a few good long decades waiting ahead of him.


	28. Hell Butterfly Making

**28.  
**

**Title: **Hell Butterfly Making**  
********Prompt: **How to...  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Hitsugaya**, **Kyouraku+Ukitake**  
Word Count: **401  
**A/N:** Thanks for the prompt foes to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13! I'm exhausted. Blergh.

Newly instated Captain Hitsugaya Toushiro stepped up onto the stool, scowling at the necessity of one. He was also scowling because he had gotten laughed at by no less than two captains and his _fuku-taicho, _though the first two were most likely inadvertent mistakes.

He had gone up to Captain Ukitake, asking over how to summon hell butterflies over to his division. He only remembered seeing them after they were summoned, and keeping one near him. Captains summoned hell butterflies. Up until six hours before, he had not been a Captain. But he had sent his spare earlier, and it had yet to return.

Ukitake had smiled at him and started to explain, but was pulled down by his partner in crime, Captain Kyouraku Shunsui. He smiled apologetically over his shoulder at his youngest associate, and Hitsugaya had just sighed and left after a red-faced apology for barging in.

He ran a finger over the worn spines. There they were! The _How To _books.

_How To Swing a Zanpakutou_

_How To Paint Your Face  
_

_How To Makeup  
_

_How To Draw Water from a Well  
_

_How To Get Them Where You Want Them  
_

_How To Make Enchiladas  
_

_How To Eat Rice: Living World Style  
_

Hitsugaya glared at the shelf. There were more _How To_ books, but they were all out of order! And he had absolutely no clue where to even begin._  
_

He just went through the next shelf, rusting around the spines of many like _How To Kill a Squirrel._

_ How to Distinguish Trees_ had half of a shelf between Hueco Mundo, Soul Society, and the Living World.

But there was no such volume as _How to Procure a Hell Butterfly._

Then Matsumoto walks in, humming to herself. For a moment, Hitsugaya is caught between bemused wonder at seeing her not drunk deaf and dumb and seeing her with a book under her arm._  
_

"Matsumoto? What are you doing here?" His voice didn't carry the breadth of his irritation, but it was more than obvious.

She plowed on obliviously, however, as if she hadn't caught on. "You said you wanted a _How To _for hell butterflies, right? I found it. It's right here! Isn't that great, taicho? Now you don't have to work to find them!

He thinks she got the point when he kicks her ass and takes the book from her hands. His day had been bad enough already.


	29. His Existence

**29.  
**

**Title: **His Existence**  
********Prompt: **Foreigner  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Zangetsu, [Unnamed Ichigo and Ichigo's Hollow]**  
Word Count: **538  
**A/N:** Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt! 4 hours to go for Yom Kippur over here, and I can't wait. This is in a bit of a continuum with #16. I'll do my best to churn out another one today, like I promised. Even if the next prompt is befuddling as

You may rule this world, but you know so little about it. Next to nothing, in fact. I decided to be your eyes here, to make sure it stays safe when you aren't here.

I saw what I saw, knew what I knew, so I knew it the first moment _he _woke up here. I should have, anyway. I don't believe I could have missed it. There is little else to do here but watch over the world, watch the skies change and balance on my flagpole. I should have realized that my tenuous balance was off, should have fallen from my perch far sooner.

Maybe I just didn't want to believe it was possible.

That _he_ could possibly exist, especially here. Not in my your world, not my home. Perhaps I am lucky that you are much more suited to rapid change than I. You may have coped better. You may have done something about the menace.

That's what I had thought of him as when I first decided he was real. He was a menace. A Hollow. Something I am to send on, to cleanse, stuck in my world, not willing to leave. Something perhaps to eat us from the inside out.

I had just decided to keep this world safe for you, to protect it for you, and I had already failed before I had even started.

In the end, I ignored him for as long as I could. I couldn't find him, and it kind of niggled at me though I never mentioned it. I thought that keeping it under wraps would protect you. He even felt a little like you, though definitely different. That was why, in the end.

I was truly as surprised as you when he first made himself visible to you. I felt a twinge in my heart when I saw him, saw his manic grin of black lips on a face whiter than the ice princess, who was always sleeved in the cleanest of snow. I closed my eyes for a moment in prayer, knowing that for once I could truly not protect you from something of my world, when I saw myself in his hands as I see myself in yours.

He was a part of you, also, and I saw that more clearly than anything else in that moment.

Then I saw _your _face, my little protector, in his face, and knew that he would never be gone. I only hoped that vestiges of you would show through with him with time. You are so young, aren't you, and I will have more than enough time to find out.

I support you fully in your rule of this dullard of a world, as I would have supported your rule of the parks and open greenery. So I confronted him when he left you.

He spoke, I spoke, and we understood. This foreigner in your soul and I, no, this lesser-known part of you and I spoke and the skyscrapers trembled in awe of the words.

And then I understood that what the foreigner wanted wasn't much different than what I did.

And that the foreigner wasn't much different in comparison to the one with whom he spoke.


	30. Of Sayings and Comebacks

**30.  
**

**Title: **Of Sayings and Comebacks**  
********Prompt: **'Women age like fine wine; men age like cheese'  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kyouraku/Ukitake, Unohana, Yoruichi**  
Word Count: **404  
**A/N:** Prompt is from Devil'sEyeAlchemist13. I kinda sat and stared at this prompt for a while, turned it over in my head for a while this morning. Anyway, I'm kinda glad I made it to thirty in the first place. :) Shorter than my last few, but it got what I wanted to say across.

One day, just out of the Academy, a young Kyouraku Shunsui had said "Women age like fine wine.". They had been in the presence of several women, three of which were members of the squad he had just joined-the Third-and a couple more were members from the Fourth, who were scattered amongst the groups of graduates in each squad for the first orientation.

Their demonstrations were frankly disturbing to many.

The women hadn't been too offended, many mildly amused, and a younger (and momentarily healthy) Ukitake had just shaken his head and laughed at him.

A century had found Ukitake as the 7th seat of the Ninth and Kyouraku as the 9th seat of the Tenth, both having transferred after recommendations and spots opened up. It had also found them both in the Fourth, shivering under the cool gaze of its newest Captain, a woman named Unohana Retsu who had, ironically enough, been rumored to be nonviolent.

From what they could tell, she was _decidedly nonviolent_ because she didn't need violence to get what she wanted. She had already been a seated officer, a 4th seat, when they had met her, when she was giving their Healing Kidou class a demonstration. They hadn't been on her bad side then, so they had only seen her competence at the time.

This time, she was not only much better, but also much more angry.

She was even angrier at Ninth Seat Kyouraku than Seventh Seat Ukitake because of one line he pulled when they had seen her for the first time in seven decades, "You know, women age like fine wine." Obviously she didn't get the complement of Kyouraku comparing her to alcohol.

That was when he learned restraint in the presence of Captain Unohana.

Years and years later, when they had met Shihoin Yoruichi sixty four years after she had disappeared with the exile and 'hollows', the first thing Kyouraku had said had been "You know, women age like fine wine." And Ukitake had groaned at his friend's antics.

Luckily enough for them, Shihoin didn't get mad. She only got even. "And men age like cheese, Kyouraku!" She called over her shoulder as she disappeared in a whoosh.

Kyouraku had the look on his face like he had been thrown for a loop. Ukitake merely chuckled and led his friend away. It was one more undocumented meeting during a perfectly normal day in the Seireitei.


	31. The Tenth Squad Spider Incident

**31.  
**

**Title: **The Tenth Squad Spider Incident**  
********Prompt: **Spider  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Mayuri, Kenpachi, Toushiro, Nanao, Matsumoto**  
Word Count: **655  
**A/N:** Thanks for the prompt goes to Belmont, who is not on fanfiction but has put up with me and my writing in the past in RL. We're a month in! Good news, I can run again for a little without hurting my right ankle/foot too badly! It's been two weeks since I could say that... I'm drowning in schoolwork today. :( The holiday messed everything up.

"EEEEEEEWWWW!"

"EEEEEEEEHHHHH!"

"WAAAAHAAAA!"

"KILL IT! DESTROY-AHHHHH!"

"MOMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

The Tenth division was a shambles. It hadn't been half an hour ago, but no one there cared enough to notice. They just wanted to be out of there.

At the commotion, the Eleventh, being next door and hearing screams, decided to stampede on scene.

At the sound of a stampede, a hell butterfly was automatically sent to the Fourth, who immediately began preparations to march out, grim-faced as if they faced Aizen himself with only their medical kits.

At hearing the screams of "It's alive!" and "It's moving!", the Twelfth division set to move out. It might be a good test subject.

For better or worse, this commotion occurred during a Captain's meeting. Little was heard from the Tenth, nothing from the Fourth, and there was only a slight rumble from the Eleventh in the distance, easily ignored. The Twelfth, however, were next door. They had also made a considerable racket with that alarm of theirs. Even that managed to be ignored for a while.

Until Mayuri swept out of the room, cackling and rubbing his fingers together and babbling about excellent specimens and experiments. As soon as he opened the door, the brunt of the noise assaulted their ears and Kenpachi was hard on Mayuri's tail, cackling as well at the prospect of a good fight. He managed to bowl over the other man, whose haori had gotten caught on the door in his eagerness to be out of the meeting. The pair of them fell, leaving a considerable indent in the ground that had not been there previously.

Taking note of the direction, Toushiro stepped into flash step, sword clanging against his back, being improperly secured for such a quick shunpo. Normally he wouldn't abandon a Captain's meeting, but it seemed to be in the direction of his division.

People were still streaming out of the barracks and office complex when Toushiro arrived. It was definitely his division. His scowl tightened. Whatever it was had to be serious if so many people were freaking out. He placed a cautionary hand Hyourinmaru and waited for the path to clear, or at least for one of his division members to explain away the mayhem to him. That is, if they ever noticed him.

Which at this rate it seemed they wouldn't.

Then a crash came from within the compound and his grip solidified. What in the Soul King's name was going on in there?

Then out came a scowling Ise Nanao walked out of the compound, tapping her hand with her book. Her expression was the one that she used when she was about to yell at her Captain. He couldn't blame her for doing it, but it wasn't something he particularly wanted directed at him. "WHY, IN THE SOUL KING'S NAME, DO YOU INCOMPETENTS HAVE TO MAKE SUCH A BIG FUSS OVER A LITTLE SPIDER?"

All commotion stopped. The Twelfth sat, looking glumly at half set up equipment. The Eleventh blinked a little bit, before taking cautionary swings of their swords. The Fourth breathed a sigh of relief. The Tenth kind of stood there, looking dumber and more shell-shocked than Toushiro had ever seen them. And Ise Nanao was there, sunlight glaring off of her glasses, tapping her book in her hand.

In that moment, she was almost as fearsome as Unohana.

Then the moment passed and the Twelfth took off, the Fourth broke apart the Eleventh, the Tenth stared, and Nanao stalked away.

The Tenth were still only starting to cautiously probe into the compound like it was Las Noches or something when Toushiro's patience finally ran out. "What are you still doing out here?" He fairly growled at his squad. "Don't you all have work to do?"

They grumbled, but started to file indoors. Toushiro muttered something about stupid people and their pranks.

Out on an out of the way training ground, Matsumoto sneezed.


	32. Object, not Thing

**32.  
**

**Title: **Object, not Thing**  
********Prompt: **Key  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Oken**  
Word Count: **203  
**A/N:** Prompt goes to Belmont...no inspiration lately. :(

In the end, it all came down to this one thing. That's all it was really. A thing. An object. An object of considerable power, possibly, but an object nonetheless. An object that hundreds were willing to die for and thousands forced to.

A thing. An object. An object of considerable power, possibly, but still an object.

A nearly unattainable object.

An object of great sacrifice and greater potential for destruction in the wrong hands. An object that can more than move mountains: it can destroy or build worlds. It can make you king.

But first you have to find it.

And the object has its ways of being annoyingly elusive, or very, very costly to make. One might say...amoral.

Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Can anyone truly wield this unwieldy power and come out incorruptible?

No, for there is truly a fancy of a glittering, dilapidated throne creaking with moss and jewels, splendor and decay. King is such a faraway goal, after all. So outrageous children give up on it before they turn their first decades.

A wish that can only be granted by this one thing, it is so believed. This object. This object and its considerable power, of course.


	33. Chases

**33.  
**

**Title: **Chases**  
********Prompt: **Chase  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Aizen, mentions of Ichigo**  
Word Count: **324  
**A/N:** Prompt goes to Belmont. As for me... Negligence! Eww! Go away! Sorry for the recent short ones...I'm really stressed and busy.  
**9-30-12:** EEEEP! I forgot to title this the first time. Sorry. Forgive me?

There was a reason that Aizen had not killed Ichigo when he had had the chance, over that blood-stained battlefield.

Truly, there was. It would not be a _good_ reason by any standards, but it was there, twinkling in the sky like Hueco Mundo's eternal moon. Lonely but definite and unchanging. And he thought, amused, he was curious just how high his learning curve was, how far he would be willing to go.

What kind of moon would the little slayer be? What new power will the boy possess?

Sometimes Aizen_ feels_ like the god he will become. That's typically when he manipulates people. Like now. He's manipulating the boy, giving him a hope. He is sure that the boy will surprise him, but that he will not die of it.

That surety of his survival is where his capacity and want for the amusement such an endeavor might bring stemmed from. There were no stakes. They were nonexistent. He could only fail.

But it would be less than benevolent not to give Ichigo the chance to. God created people with free will, didn't he?

Or was that another illusion?

Either way, the chase was the same. Ichigo's chase for power to rise above his foes. His chase after Aizen after that was completed. Aizen leaving the mouse alive so that the cat might have more fun later. No, a fly caught in the spider's web who does not yet know of his situation would be more apt. Yet that was missing something.

Aizen could feel Ichigo now, coming forth from the Senkaimon.

No matter. He had all the time in the world to chase after that concept. For now, it was time for him to complete his chase.

He'd have time to think of such minor ponderings once he stepped onto his throne. Aizen might be in for a good chase, but he wasn't going to be the prey of it. Not ever.


	34. Checkerboard

34.**  
**

**Title: **Checkerboard**  
********Prompt: **Murder  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Aizen, mentions of others**  
Word Count: **651  
**A/N:** Prompt goes to Belmont. I dunno what's up with my weird fixation on Aizen-related pieces lately, but I've been pretty busy. Too much so as to question it. Chemistry this year is a killer.  
**9-30-12: **Eeep! What's with FF not wanting to save my titles?

It was rather simple. Nearly too simple. But, perhaps, simple was for the best. Simplistic was always easier to understand and accept for the masses than some elaborate scheme.

It was never quite a game. Yes, he saw them as chess pieces, to be moved and won and lost and sacrificed to come closer to winning. No, not chess. Checkers. Because in checkers, if one reaches the other side they become a king.

Kinging himself was his ultimate goal. He was not stupid enough to leave himself off of the chess board, after all. He was not removed from the game. Never removed as a player might, but as a piece to be moved when it might. Someone who played from his view of the board.

It was a limited view, perhaps. But only a god could hope to see it all, and he was not a god. Not yet, anyway.

But he'd best not get too far ahead of himself. The crux of his plans had yet to find a space into which it might move. Other pieces were blocking its way. His chief among them. They'd be foiled and crushed like so much aluminum foil if he let out a peep. He'd be put in the Maggot's Nest and left to rot.

A piece lost to the enemy. The game, too, if it were his own.

No matter. It would not come to that, he was certain. The times when he may have been caught were long past. He could recall them all.

When Hirako-taicho and the other Captains unfortunate enough to follow him into that trap were hollowified. When Grand Fisher made an appearance for the first time in three or four years in a small town in Japan.

When he had to cull Abarai Renji from his lot of potential Lieutenants for either himself or one of his more important pawns, the man having been far too proactive and having too copious an amount of Rukongai street-rat canniness. He'd only kept him so long, if he recalled correctly, because he had happened to step in on the Academy hollow massacre. The other three to have seen him and Gin that day were the ones who had become their Lieutenants: Hisagi Shuuhei, Hinamori Momo, Kira Izuru. He'd set that up only because the spiritual pressure of the four seemed enough to one day become plausible excuses for Vice Captains.

Why he wanted to choose his Lieutenant like that? To spark admiration. Admiration is the furthest thing from understanding, that was always certain.

The next furthest being keeping the object of which understanding is wished five feet away at all times, without more than a passing glance in their direction. Hirako-taicho had learned that.

Those and a few others. Not many, but more than enough for someone to have found something.

Now, it was too late. Both to study him and to find something. Why? He was going to be murdered within the day.

Murdered. Impaled upon his own sword. Preferably on a high building of some sort-he hadn't decided which yet. It didn't much matter-he could be spur of the moment if he so wished.

A timid little knock sounded on his door right as he turned to dip his pen back into his inkwell. It was likely Hinamori Momo. It had been mildly amusing to watch her hero worship of him from time to time. He called her in. She smiled gratefully and sat down on the rug behind him. An hour later, she was sleeping.

Sleeping in the presence of a man about to betray her. How tragic. He closed the note and placed it where it would be found, much later the next day.

It was time to go get murdered, Aizen thought almost jovially. His checkered piece moved, and the hidden piece was soon noticed by all of the other chips on the checkerboard.


	35. Byakurai

**35.  
**

**Title: **Byakurai**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Byakuya**  
Word Count: **297  
**A/N:** A sort-of sequel to #27 and #20 without actually drawing in anything important from either. Well, it's true, I can manage without prompts if I feel like writing my own idea. Even if it ended up a bit short.

They were whispering again. He knew they were, as he had always known. They were merely doing their job as people, gossiping about the lives of others. But now was really when they had to choose? Now?

He had been in the middle of a big kidou test that day at the academy. It was grade-wide for the fifth years, and he was as nervous as the next one. But it was a _kidou_ test. They had no right to gossip about someone's _zanpakutou_, especially when they often lacked the potential to manifest one of their own.

He felt a migrane start to form. Bad. Migranes could affect his kidou. He really did want to pass the test. It wasn't his weakest point (he hated zanjutsu with a passion to rival the power of a _senjukotentaiho_, the ninty-first hado. Luckily he didn't have to perform that high a kido) but it didn't mean that he liked it all that much. He much preferred Hohou.

But the Hohou test was for weeks yet. He was itching for it, to win what he knew he could. But first he had to survive the kidou test. And he had to do it with a migrane.

So it wasn't really a surprise when his name was called and he produced a ridiculously overpowered _byakurai_, without the incantation.

He had failed the test when it had exploded just far enough from them to give the training area a nice shaking, but not close enough to hurt anyone. Luckily.

But it was a failing, and as it were it could not be allowed. That was why he was so prideful when he used that perfect _byakurai_ against the ryoka boy, Kurosaki Ichigo. For that success, all those chains and practices were worth it.


	36. Scritch

**36.  
**

**Title: **_Scritch**  
**_******Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Byakuya, Renji**  
Word Count: **222  
**A/N:** No excuse for this one. None. And I actually had a working title (not the end one) and characters before the piece was written. It wouldn't leave me alone!...even when I had no story for it. Kinda pointless and short.

_Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scratch. Grump. Groan. Scritch. Mumble. Stretch. Bones creaking. Heavy sigh. Scritch._

_Scratch. _Byakuya's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He reached to dip his seal into an inkwell. " _Scritch._

He was truly_ - Scritch - _annoyed by the matter_. Scritch. Groan. Scritch.  
_

Renji_ - Scratch. Yawn. - _was not stopping. Kuchiki Byakuya -_ Scritch. Scritch. Mumble. Scritch. _worked in silence. This was perhaps the furthest thing from that silence. _Scratch.__  
_

Drastic situations called for drastic - _Scritch._ - measures. Wasn't that a Living World term? Hadn't he - _Drop pen. Groan. Fidget. Scritch._ - heard it somewhere? He was sure he had. _Scritch. Paper crumpling. Sigh. Fumbling. Scritch._ It didn't truly matter, now did it. _Scratch._

By this point, Byakuya had a definite headache coming. Why wouldn't his Lieutenant stop that incessant noise. _Scratch._

"Renji." Byakuya's voice wasn't particularly loud, but the frigid tone left the room fraught of it. Renji looked up from his paperwork, mid-_Scritch_.

"Yes, Taicho?" Renji tilted his head slightly in recognition.

"Please stop that irritating noise and just do your work." Byakuya's pen barely made a sound as it floated across the paper he was currently signing.

"Okay, Taicho." Renji replied confusedly. He was doing his work. He had been this whole time. So what was that comment for? And...what noise was Taicho talking about?


	37. Good Morning, Tsuchinamazu

**37.  
**

**Title: **Good Morning, Tsuchinamazu**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Rukia, Zennosuke, mentions of others**  
Word Count: **452  
**A/N:** Okay, I know that I've been pretty bad about this lately with all the really short ones and all. I've been pretty busy lately, but I made a promise to myself to keep writing these, no matter what. I'll try for a few longer ones, but no promises because I'm exhaustively busy. And about not doing prompts: I'll get back to them-I do have some-but I'm taking a short break from that. I've come up with a few ideas over time and I don't have the time right now to puzzle out prompts.

Another light flickered out on a random street in Karakura. Rukia sighed. This was getting ridiculous.

It hadn't even been the hollow's fault this time, a mere stray class E who had been chasing the soul of a girl who looked like she barely topped twenty. It had been a pretty easy kill, an easy konso, and a very routine assignment. Not that it was her assignment-she was just here on a visit to Ichigo. They'd sensed the hollow, and she had offered to go after it.

It was actually the fault of _Zennosuke_, the shinigami who had taken over for her when she was going to be killed. He had seen the hollow and called out his shikai, Tsuchinamazu, for reasons unknown. It was an easy hollow, dammit! Not something that needed a shikai. Academy students could have taken care of it.

And, for reasons also unknown, he had seen fit to use his shikai's special ability to try to get the hollow. In short, he had created a random earthquake in the middle of a street, tore the asphalt up from a wide line on the street in the process, misaimed, hit a streetlight, run away crying at his failure, and left the hollow to Rukia.

At times, she wondered who was running the Academy. She was sure that she had never been quite that terrible a shinigami. Even when she really didn't have the power, she had at least attempted something much friendlier to the surroundings and something that, had it been more successful, would have killed the hollow and sent its spiritual particles back into the matrix.

She wondered if she could make a report against Zennosuke. Possibly. She had the evidence, after all.

But Karakura had its own hollow-minders, and with the war on shinigami ought to be training if they were decent enough to fight. Someone as useless as Zennosuke could be tolerated in someplace like Karakura, despite its premier importance to the war effort, it being the obvious target of Aizen's plans, because of people like Ichigo and Uryuu and Orihime and Chad. And Urahara and Yoruichi would be there with Ururu and Jinta, all forces to be reckoned with, if they needed help.

So, once again, Rukia decides that leaving Zennosuke isn't going to be too detrimental to the town.

Because no little hollow would ever get past these people, not on their lives. No big hollow. No arrancar. They wouldn't let it happen.

Rukia yawned. It was late, and she wasn't expected back until noon tomorrow. She headed back to Ichigo's house. While she slept in his closet, someone else would take care of any minor distractions. She was absolutely certain of it.


	38. Cross Swords

**38.  
**

**Title: **Cross Swords**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Zangetsu, mentions of Ichigo's Hollow, Ichigo**  
Word Count: **549  
**A/N:** This is the third bit in the continuum including #16 and #29. In case it isn't obvious, it's from Zan's POV. The hollow is 'he'. Ichigo is 'you'.

He was here for a time when you didn't know of his existence. That was fine by him, who spent his time scheming and planning.

He was a foreigner no longer, more of an acquaintance of mine. He looked no odder than I did, though he had hollow eyes and skin whiter than the candy-floss that was happiness or contentment. He was not a friend, however. Never a friend.

He always complained about the monotony of the sideways skyscrapers, so I told him of the grassy parks and the in-between. He showed little interest in the past, however.

It became increasingly obvious that you and he would have some sort of encounter. Some sort of conflict. That he planned for that.

That was the first time in a while I truly doubted him. I should have known better. I had seen my ideals reflected in the whites of his eyes after all. Seen them, recognized them, accepted them, accepted him.

I tried to prepare you. To tell you to get stronger, to follow your heart. To try your best, put your all into every fight. I watched you grow, meddling only slightly. And I prayed from the depths of your very soul that it would be enough.

Oh, how wrong I was. It would never have been enough for that first meeting, especially after the time he spent fortifying himself. I had wanted to tell you, but you needed to learn to do things on your own, to _use your brain_.

It was neither the time nor the place, and for that I am sorry. I never meant for you to suffer his rough ministrations. I never meant for you to have to deal with an impossible internal conflict with a part of your soul at the same moment as fights far too advanced for your only newly-found skills challenged you in the outside world.

I thought that it would be too much for you to handle.

It was, but that didn't stop you.

I helped you as much as I possibly could, much to my nameless companion's snickering. I taught, mentored, steadied, uplifted, _fathered_ you as I could. I tried my best, I really did.

The first time you crossed swords, he was just sounding you out. I guessed that, but there was nothing I could do but be there afterwards and made sure you learned something. You would be better the next time you two crossed swords.

And you were. Your progress was amazing, and your loyalty to whom and what you decide is yours to protect got us in as many fights as you learned me as your hair had brought you in years.

So when you two crossed swords, the skyscrapers fell silent and I keened silently.

You won, but the victory was shaky. He just smiled, like he meant it that way. If his manic grins could be called smiles.

It was hard to see what he wanted that day, but your determination cemented mine further. I will always be there for you, my little protector. I promise, young one. So lean on me and grow strong, grow steady, grow smart and perceptive and adaptable.

Grow, my little protector. I wish to see your blossom, the only one in the sea of sideways skyscrapers.


	39. Takeout Dinners

**39.  
**

**Title: **Takeout Dinners**  
********Prompt: **Potato  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Slight Hitsugaya/Karin, Orihime, Rangiku, Ichigo**  
Word Count:** 304  
**A/N:** Okay, I got an idea in the middle of my soccer game. Then I promptly forgot it. I did win the game though. :) ANYWAY, I got this word from a classmate today. I think I'm going to go back to the prompts after this. Thanks for bearing with me, if anyone reads this. I didn't figure out it was Hitsugaya until I wrote his name. Ending is rushed since its almost midnight here and I'm exhausted.  
**10-14-12:** I realized that I messed up with the characters.

Rangiku and Orihime were at the supermarket. Once one gets over the trauma such a statement conceivably induces, they might look further. They were giggling together, and putting another condiment-this one pickle relish-into Orihime's cart. Okay, definitely time for traumatization.

Especially when you were going to eat dinner with them in an hour or two. Hitsugaya shuddered. One of these days he would just break down and ask someone if he could stay with them. Maybe the Kurosaki girl he'd met the other day-Karin. Her brother would be infinitely better to deal with than Orihime's cooking. He had no idea that anyone could eat that stuff.

Either way, he was stuck with it for tonight. He groan again when he figured out where in the store they were. Vegetable section. Even on a normal basis, he wasn't too fond of vegetables.

Much to his disgust, leeks and broccoli made their way into the cart. And then the potatoes did. There were seven potatoes-an extraordinarily large amount for something as large as a potato. But he didn't have time to question it. They were coming his way, and he had to get out of there before they got to the cake batter powder thing he was standing in front of.

Luckily, they hadn't noticed him.

Once more, Hitsugaya found himself in a takeout line. He sighed. Maybe it was time to deal with Ichigo's overprotectiveness.

He was sure that Ichigo would eventually understand. Or that he would from the start. He was, after all, a friend of Inoue Orihime. He had to have tasted her cooking at least once in the past.

But, for the meanwhile, it was takeout. Ichigo was about as overprotective as Ukitake was determined to give him candy.

He didn't want to be on the other end of that, not ever.


	40. Form

**40.  
**

**Title: **Form**  
********Prompt: **Petals  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Byakuya**  
Word Count: **718  
**A/N:** Prompt is from GlitterAndMetal. Follow up to #35. I really liked the concept I started there when I realized that Byakuya would definitely have to prove himself before people accepted that his zanpakutou's shikai was flower petals before it would be really accepted. Holds some of my speculation of what the form of Senbonzakura means.

Byakuya was in a depressive mood after that failed Kidou test. He'd gotten an earful about how he should have aced the test, like any true Kuchiki would have, how disappointed people seemed to be in him, how nothing should have stopped him from success. Even the Werecat had nipped his ear about it.

He dragged himself out of bed, determined to not fail any more tests, and get the damn kidou _perfect_. So perfect that it was more perfect than any Kuchiki before him, so that he wouldn't have to deal with those comments anymore. They were too irritating and too distracting to continue. They also bounced around in his head long after he heard them first, angering him and Senbonzakura both.

Halfway to the Kidou practice grounds, he changed directions. He'd work his aggression off by working with Senbonzakura. He'd become proficient enough at controlling his petals, at making them a menacing enemy for any fighter, so that the comments would stop. He'd make the student body respect his zanpakutou, and consequences were for losers.

After all, Byakuya was a Kuchiki. Kuchiki weren't losers.

He arrived at the fields a mere fifteen minutes later, after a quick detour to get Senbonzakura from his dorm room. To his delight, a large area by the corner was uninhabited. He made his way there before drawing his sword and saying the words that, many years later, would strike fear in the hearts of many: _Chire, Senbonzakura_. Scatter, Senbonzakura. And the world around him broke into a vibrant shade of light pink.

Later on as he rested by a tree, leaves obscuring the sun and leaving him in luxurious coolnesss, he reflected on what the petals of his sword meant. He refused to believe that they were merely beautiful or girly, as he had been so teased.

He refused to believe that they were the reflection of his sexuality as he had been mocked just the other day.

He refused to believe that the form of his shikai was weakness incarnate.

He refused to believe that they reflected delicacy, especially when they weren't merely blossoms.

Maybe that was it, that fact that his flower petals were not merely blossoms. They were blades. Small blades, yes, taking the form of blossoms. But there were a lot of them and they were all edged all the way around. And they would be edged sharply, if he honed his resolve and his will, instead of letting it take the form of simple, lashing anger. Such emotions were too crude for the blossoms to truly be controlled by.

Maybe they represented something that was much sharper, much keener, much more dangerous than any appearances. A personality hidden within a more gentle exterior or potentially harmless or so seeming exterior.

Maybe the form was just taking the form of something that most people wouldn't touch or disturb, like the beautiful blossoms as they fell and swirled in the air around, filling it with sweet fragrances and showering it with overwhelming beauty or the ever-so-noble Kuchiki family.

Maybe it had to do with overwhelming others with himself, the blossoms, themselves. Overwhelming them with what, though? His pride? His power? His noble status? His overall self?

Just what was his sword, and what of himself did it reflect? Byakuya looked up at the dark leaves of the lower branches of his tree, lightly patting his blade beside him. He just didn't know. Not now, anyway.

At that moment, Byakuya made a promise to himself. One day, he would truly understand his sword, and when that day came he would understand that much more about himself. He had never thought of anything as an enigma before, as he did now. _We'll figure this out, Senbonzakura._

**Yes, **Senbonzakura replied. Byakuya could almost _taste_ the enticing smell of the blooming blossoms as his sword responded. He fell backwards, content for the moment.

Three hours later, Byakuya still hadn't made it back to his dorm or to the Kidou fields. He was once again surrounded by twinkling petals in the far corner of the Zanpakutou practice field. He was going to get better. He was going to learn.

And he wouldn't fail in his promise, because to fail would be to lose. Because he was a Kuchiki, and Kuchiki weren't losers.


	41. Waiting for Okaa-chan

**41.  
**

**Title: **Waiting for Okaa-chan**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Younger Ichigo**  
Word Count: **741  
**A/N:** I decided to write a younger Ichigo piece. I'm going to write a few short pieces for the characters we see younger in their younger selves. I have that a couple on younger Byakuya already up as well. If you have anyone you want to see here, please write it in a review or shoot me a PM. I don't bite. I might do more than one for some characters, depending on how I feel and how much we know about them.  
**10-14-12: **Added a word count.

As much as he'd like for it to be longer, the night won't last forever if you use the dark to dream. Dream he did. Nightmare, more , in the dark, shadows stowed away all the scary things under the bed and in the closets.

Monsters he could never quite place, all of them dark and grotesque, statuesque almost until they start moving. In his dreams they're always trying to chase him, to eat him. They let out cries, shrill cries, almost deafening. Their faces, or lack thereof is the worst part. Through the masks, all different though they are all white bone, their eyes are gold on black.

Little girls, wispy things, pale with dark hair, by the riverside. They evaporate, mostly, or drown in the river when they don't. Sometimes they have Karin or Yuzu's faces, just to keep him on his toes. Sometimes it even has Okaa-chan's. Those nights are the worst.

Gone are the dreams of beating Tatsuki-chan in the dojo, he couldn't care less anymore. He feels bad when he remembers, because he knows that Tatsuki-chan cares about him. She stands up for him, a little dazed dreamer with orange hair and a cheery disposition. A weak little dazed dreamer, maybe, but she's someone he calls a friend.

He knows, somewhere, that she's worried for him, but there's nothing she can do. Nothing he can do either. She wouldn't do anything but knock him upside the head and tell him to get over it if he told her about the nightmares, but for some reason he got that it was more than that.

Then there's the fact that Okaa-chan's soul isn't by the river. He's sure it should be there. He knows where it was, has the spot forever burned into his memory. So he's waiting. He knows that no one else understands, but he's waiting.

No one else knows about the ghosts he sees, the broken chains on their chests being the only thing that distinguishes them from people normal people could see. He couldn't remember not seeing them. One of his earliest memories was having an Obaa-chan, a spirit of an old woman from a few streets over, help him learn how to practice words when he was really little. He never told anyone when Yuna-obaa-chan disappeared. He mourned her, but he _knew_ she had passed on to a better place.

The Ito brothers, Ryuu and Takashi, were both older than him, but not by much. When they had died, everyone was sad, but he had seen them, and kept them happy. They played together in his room, laughing like any kid their age might. And when they had left, he had gotten the same feeling as when Obaa-chan left, that they had moved on to a better place.

And they were the first, not the last. But since then, he had made a point of going out of his way to keep in contact with the dead, to keep them content and not lonely.

But Okaa-chan wasn't there. He didn't get the feeling that she'd moved on to that 'better place', so she _had_ to be here. He'd learned that most spirits didn't wander far from where they died. And Okaa-chan had to be waiting for him. He had been walking with her at the time, before he found her on top of him. So, despite the sinking sensation and forthcoming realization that he had killed her, and that because of that she didn't want to see him. Not then, not ever.

The realization hurt, it hurt so very much. But this was Okaa-chan, and he was so _sad_. She had always tried to cheer him up if he was sad. So where was she? He waited for her.

He waited in that same spot by the river. He waited everyday with baited breath and crying eyes, waited for his mother. He gleaned from other spirits over the years that she should still be around, with that telltale chain on her chest. That she wasn't gone, just where normal people couldn't see her. From time to time he asked other spirits for help, but none of them could find Okaa-chan.

The last day he spent the entire day at the river, he just broke down, sobbing. Okaa-chan was gone, really gone. She hadn't passed on, and she wasn't here, so she must have disappeared. She didn't exist anymore. And it was his fault.


	42. Decisions Decisions

**42.  
**

**Title: **Decisions Decisions**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Younger Aizen, mentions of Tousen**  
Word Count: **506  
**A/N:** And I put off my prompts again... Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 requested this particular one. It turned out weird, but it wasn't terrible, now was it?

He stood up from his Jinzen, methodically stretching stiff joints. His neck cracked, much to his annoyance. The noise was loud in the empty forest, and he did not wish to risk being caught away from Academy grounds. Students were only supposed to be off grounds on Saturdays, their day off. Today was Sunday, by the position of the sun.

He'd been there all night, having been too far out after his previous day's solitary training to return before curfew. So he had merely resumed training with the idea to get in in the early morning, or late-night darkness. Instead he'd fallen asleep.

Careless of him.

After one last stretch, he had started his shunpo back towards the Academy. He'd go in by the dojo near the forest, and if anyone saw him he could claim to have come from the dojo. He had better ways in, but none of them gave him an excuse to be anywhere but his room during the night. He wouldn't chance having been found missing.

He hadn't spoken to his sword during the previous day, preferring to examine people and memories. In short, he'd been looking for an accomplice.

It had to be someone who knew of him or had heard of him, someone who admired his strength without hero worship. Someone whose ideals could be warped to suit his cause. Younger than him or his age, and in the Academy, then.

His cause? The Soul Society was run by verifiable _vermin_, who cared little for their pet shinigami and less for the average hapless soul in Rukongai. It had been obvious. So obvious. And no one had ever dreamt of uprooting the system, because _the system is always right_ was practically hardwired into the brains of anyone who survived the Academy.

But the system was not nearly as right as it would like to be, as he should know.

It needed to change. That's what he had thought. It hadn't been until decades and centuries, years and long seconds later that he had decided the system needed to go. But those years had yet to pass, and so he merely wanted change.

Of course he wouldn't voice this to anyone but his chosen accomplice. In the wrong head, it might be considered treason. He might be killed for it.

At that point, he didn't care. A few must die to save the many, he thought. If it changed the system, he would be part of the few. It wasn't until those years had past that he deigned himself too necessary as a voice for that change, and it was even later before he dreamt of being the god shaping it.

But for here and now, all he needed was an accomplice. His lips curled as he shunpoed from the forest to his dorm room, automatic kidou locks undone in wake of the new morning.

Tousen Kaname, here I come, Aizen thought of his blind classmate. In the most figurative sense of the word, he would be blind no longer.


	43. Leaving the Maggot's Nest

**43.  
**

**Title: **Leaving the Maggot's Nest **  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Mayuri (younger), mentions of Urahara**  
Word Count: **448  
**A/N:** Ru-kujaku asked me a while back for some insight into some of the kids/young(er) adults in Bleach. Mayuri was one of them, so here goes. This was a bit harder, and probably weaker.

It was dark, dank, lonely, and lonesome. It had been some time since his last meal, but not a sleep. That meant that it was also empty. Always a positive.

It wasn't that he loved isolation, because he definitely didn't. It was that those menials out there just didn't understand his brain, yet he was forced to deal with them like they were his 'betters'. Pah. He was smarter than any of them, even on an off day. More powerful, too. You didn't get locked up this low in the Maggot's Nest just for being smart.

It was something he took a little pride in, despite having the bad luck (he would _not_ call it a stupid miscalculation or mistake) to get caught up well enough to be sent here in the fist place.

That didn't matter. He'd get out of here eventually, he'd vowed to himself. It had been a long while since, but he was still determined. The determination of youth, he thought fondly. That and stubbornness. It'd be something to research one he got out of here. He looked distastefully around his cell once more, appalled by the lack of any scientific toys.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and he turned to meet his visitor. He had never had many friends, and had even fewer that would associate with him now that he was down here. None, actually. And it was too early for a feeding. So what...?

A way out, perhaps. He grinned openly as the footsteps grew nearer. For him. Good. Excellent, really.

He didn't recognize the face, a head of messy blond hair and a seemingly innocent countenance. Innocence was always easy to take advantage of. Deciding he had nothing to lose by demanding answers, he called out to his new companion and future competition. "What are you doing here?"

"Freeing you, of course." The blond laughed. "Unless you don't want to be out of here. I have a proposition for you."

How idiotic could this young man get? Three minutes later, I had much the same opinion of the blond as I had before them. Of course I'd accept that, a full lab and the freedom to run it. I'd be a fool to say no. The next thing I knew, the door was unlocked and he held it open. I walked through it, and out into the badly lit, decrepit excuse of a hallway.

Now that I'm through the darkness, I see the sun. I wonder why it shines so brightly? Ah well, time for another experiment. And now I have a lab to do it in. Today has been quite a wonderful day of wonderful surprises, now hasn't it?


	44. Save the Trees

**44.  
**

**Title: **Save the Trees**  
********Prompt: **Another Page  
**Pairing/Character(s): **All Captains & Vice Captains/Lieutenants**  
Word Count: **931  
**A/N:** Prompt is from GlitterAndMetal. Please note that I have plans to do a snippet going further into Nanao and her book, but it is only referenced here.

**Squad 1**

Yamamoto turned over the page of paperwork he had been skimming, nodded silently to himself, and stamped it. Then he picked up another page and started the process all over again. The new watch schedules would be approved by the end of the hour, at this rate.

Chojiro, on the other hand, was not doing paperwork. He was flipping the page in a so-called 'history book' he had taken from a bookstore in the Living World on England. Tea couldn't be their only truly amazing invention, of that he was certain.**  
**

**Squad 2  
**

Soi Fon flipped through the pages of a mission brief with one of the Onmitsukido squad leaders, her third seat. A group of rogue shinigami in the Rukongai area just identified themselves as dangerous, and it was their job to go do something about it _five minutes ago._ But, in light of the new intelligence they were going over, tomorrow would have to do.

Omaeda chucked another sheet of paper meant to separate sections of crackers in the trash, and started to shuck the wrappers off of the newly-revealed crackers.**  
**

**Squad 3  
**

Kira was writing in the little diary that Unohana-taicho had given him after Gin's betrayal. It had, surprisingly enough, helped him a great deal to write down everything he remembered, to be looked at as fond memories years later and to get it all off of his chest now.

**Squad 4**

Unohana was holding a folder of a Division 11 member who had, until the moment before when she had smiled at him, been yelling loudly and crudely at her squad member, a 19th seat. Her smile remained as she wrote down on the paper that he was to stay for an extra three days, and a recommendation for a disciplinary course. One that he could start during his stay in the Fourth, of course. And no, his Captain couldn't do anything about it because he was under _her_ jurisdiction right that moment.

Isane held in her hand a prescription, written in the scrawl of her 8th seat, for the Squad 6 member in front of her.**  
**

**Squad 5**

Hinamori never let the last letter that Aizen had written before he defected (he was forced to go, he didn't choose to!) out of her sight. Often, it was clutched tightly in her hand, out of sight in the loose shihakusho she wore.

**Squad 6**

Byakuya was looking at his finished calligraphy, the character for strength neatly written on the corner of the paper, along with power, love, and resolve. The poem in the middle was more delicate, but he had finished it the day before. It was truly a masterpiece, he thought as he doodled Ambassador Seaweed on a different piece of paper.

Renji was rummaging through old expense reports, looking for the reason that the impossible money accounts for the past three months just wouldn't balance.**  
**

**Squad 7**

Komamura was reading yet another of the Living World books on dogs, and laughing when he wasn't overly offended by their insinuations. For goodness sake, not every dog lived to fetch sticks!

Iba was playing cards with Ikkaku and a few other old buddies from the 11th, and losing at the poker game as Ikkaku's four and seven two-pair trumped his four and six pairs.******  
**

**Squad 8  
**

Shunsui was spending a bit of time being hit over the head with Nanao's book, presumably over being lazy.

Nanao always had that volume with her, the book that she never got to read that night over a century before. It was almost like a security blanket.******  
**

**Squad 9  
**

Shuuhei was holding a copy of the Seireitei Communications set to hit the market tomorrow morning, combing through it for any final edits.

**Squad 10**

Toushiro had finally gotten his hands on the copy of _How to Procure a Hell Butterfly_ he had spent so much time tediously searching for all those years ago, when he had been forced to swallow his pride and ask Ukitake for help after spending half of a day tracking down everyone he needed to send messages to. He remembered distinctly Matsumoto had trying to 'be helpful and give the book to him', only for it to be _How To: The Birds and The Bees._

Matsumoto was passed out in a bar somewhere, with her bill stuck to her head courtesy of some sticky alcoholic drink.**  
**

**Squad 11**

Kenpachi was tacking Yachiru's latest drawing of a bloody hollow with sparkles up on the Division Notice Board. Also known as the front doors, since it was the only thing everyone in his Division saw.

Yachiru was ripping up some paperwork to make a paper wig for Ikkaku, since she decided that 'Baldy' could use a change of hairstyle every once in a while.******  
**

**Squad 12**

Mayuri held recorded data on his computer, but he always transcribed that from the piece of scrap paper he used during his experiments to track the data.

Nemu was the one responsible for moving the data from those scrawling papers to the computer system that her 'father' had installed in the 12th.**  
**

**Squad 13**

Ukitake had pulled out an old scrapbook he hadn't seen in a century or so, and was going over it. Poring over all of the good memories, the bad, the changes, the things that stayed the same.

Rukia's sketchbook was her pride and joy. Period.

* * *

Maybe one day, their friends from the Living World might introduce 'paperless communication'. And when that day finally came to pass, every tree in Rukongai would breathe a sigh of relief.


	45. Illusory Intentions

**45.  
**

**Title: **Illusory Intentions**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Ichimaru Gin**  
Word Count: **388  
**A/N:** I'm extremely tired right now, and I just wrote a poem for school, so sorry about the shortness

The moon shone in the sky, the same crescent moon he could remember arriving to.

The sands, the same white sands, blew in the same light wind they had always seemed to.

The trees were still crystalline and brittle. The holes in the ground still lead to the Forest of fallen souls. The desert was still infertile and perhaps even more endless.

It was still a miserable place.

A hollow's roaring could be heard distantly from time to time, else it was a very silent place. Too silent, he often thought. Creepily, eerily silent.

But that was alright with him. He didn't much care about where he was or what he did from moment to moment. That philosophy didn't really mesh with Hueco Mundo, but it's not like he was from there. It was more of a...temporary residence.

He knew that he wasn't under Kyoka Suigetsu's spell. He knew that for a fact. He knew the blade's weaknesses and strengths nearly as well as he knew Shinso's. He knew what to do to break Aizen's illusion. And then maybe, just maybe, one day he would get the chance to.

He had sworn to kill the man at any cost, after all. A rather quick death was a pretty meager cost to pay, as long as the offense to the balance of souls died. Souls didn't retain their identity when going back into a Living World cycle. Aizen Sousuke would never be again.

He could live with that.

Aizen had made a rather large mess of the world, beside his own personal vendetta. He was sure that the world could see it his way, if they knew his reasoning. He knew the loud-haired Kurosaki boy that so intrigued his target would understand and agree if he knew. Possibly his friends as well, depending.

So he planned.

Stayed in the shadows (which weren't all that dark, not with all the _white_).

Looked at the same moon. The same sands. The same trees.

Hueco Mundo was a miserable place, but it was a necessity to his plans.

It never occurred to Aizen that he too might not be infallible, that he too might be deceived by the illusions of others. It was an oversight that Gin wasn't going to relieve him of, of course.

He only hoped he wasn't too late.


	46. Noble Woman

**46.  
**

**Title: **Noble Woman**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Younger Soi Fon, Yoruichi**  
Word Count: **272  
**A/N:** Yes, I called her Shaolin. This is set before she becomes Onmitsukido, so she isn't Soi Fon yet. A request from ru-kujaku. Sorry for the shortness again, but I've been busy, and I didn't have all that much to write about this Soi Fon. And I know the quality's bad today, so please bear with me.

She watched the palanquin pass by with rapt attention and sparkling eyes, enraptured and awed by it, and the crest that adorned its shimmery side, the familiar sigil of the Shihoin clan.

The only thing that she would ever gaze upon with that look would eventually not be the palanquin, but the girl inside of it. The mischievous, trouble-making, enigma of a girl whose name was Shihoin Yoruichi. But that was eventually, and not quite yet. For now, she looked at the Shihoin heiress as if she were just another accessory to the ensemble.

Which, in part, she was. It was _her_ ensemble, after all. Where it went, she went, and vice versa.

When she wasn't the Onmitsukido Commander, of course. But that was a seemingly nonexistent part of her in the light of the staunch and starchy celebrations of the wealthier noble houses. Perhaps that was a skill in and of itself. She was Onmitsukido, after all. Appearing naturally in various environments is just an extension of being a spy.

Mentally, Shaolin forgot for a moment that it was the quick attacks and assassinations that were the specialty of Onmitsukido, not spying, though it's not like they didn't gather intelligence. Just not like that.

Maybe she was so enraptured by the wonderful charisma that Yoruichi exuded, the want to be near her and to help her in any way possible.

She just seemed so delicate when she was like this. Dressed like a noble woman, in glitzy jewels and finely threaded kimonos. Someone to be protected. Someone she could protect, if she only trained hard enough.

So came Feng Shaolin's resolve.


	47. Why Shinigami Wear Waraji

**47.  
**

**Title: **Why Shinigami Wear Waraji**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Yamamoto, mentions of others**  
Word Count: **638  
**A/N:** I was seriously ready to go to and bash my head into the keyboard in frustration because the prompt really wasn't doing it for me-until I saw the Broken News segment on 'the worst sound in the world' and this human-hair suit with shoes whose soles are made of teeth.  
**Further Note:** Eeep! I'm sorry I forgot to post this yesterday! I had it written, I just didn't put it up. Sorry! Today's will go up later.

Part of it was the traditional-ness of the Seireitei and Soul Society in general.

Part of it was the lack of noise produced by them, unlike the louder and more unwieldy geta.

Part of it, perhaps, was the simplicity. It didn't take all that much effort to deal with pieces of rope on a sole. Or a soul, for that matter.

All were valid reasons, of course, but not the real reason. Because there was, once upon a time, a time where zori were worn. Zori are are also traditional Japanese footwear, and bear a striking resemblance to the plastic flip-flops commonly worn in warm places in the Living World, except for having straps that end just before the heel instead of just past the ball of the foot.

They also had all the same troubles as the flip-flop does. In short, they had a tendency to fall off at the oddest of moments, especially when shunpoing backwards in a fight. Or falling. And the straps had an even more annoying tendency to snap when the angle wasn't good enough to fly off.

They were officially replaced after a chain reaction started from a Division Eleven third seat picking a fight with the Lieutenant of the Eighth Division, in the process tripping him and his large pile of paperwork. His zori flipped off and hit the Eleventh Division bravo in the face. Needless to say, he got so angry that his face purpled. The his foot twisted as it came down and not only did the strap of his zori snap, but so did his ankle.

A trio of Division Ten members, leaving their barracks to see what the disturbance was. One slipped on the paperwork as another bent down to see what it was. The bent one got a foot to the face, knocking him out, and he fell on top of his spinning comrade. The third let out a warning shout.

The chaos went on for a while longer, until the straw that broke the camel's back. A young Kyouraku Shunsui got in the middle of the mess. After that, Yamamoto-soutaicho got involved in the mess. And that was that.

They had picked geta to replace the zori, however. That didn't last very long.

The entire Onmitsukido had put in a request to lift the geta requirement on them. It was an unnecessary impediment to their missions, they said. So Yamamoto approved their request. He couldn't think of any other people who would suffer from the geta, so that was that. But the requests kept coming in. The Twelfth Division: We can't hear machines over the geta. The

That lasted until he heard the symphony of geta in the streets, in the halls. The music of them grated on him. Some people even used them to make makeshift musical instruments, especially when they were inebriated enough.

One day he had just had enough. Geta were out.

Finally, we come to the waraji. In the interest of preserving the traditions of the Living World society they are most like, they are also traditional footwear. They are also much simpler than most shoes. Much more secure, with that strap around the back. Much quieter without the wood.

It was something that Seireitei looked at dubiously at first, and then took to like a cat to freshly-killed fish, though its still dripping with water.

Ever since then, waraji have been in to stay. It may breed creepers like Ichimaru, but the benefits far outweighed the faults. Right?

Still, if any more Lieutenants became as skittish as Kira Izuru was or Hinamori Momo was or even the pair of third seats that argued all the time in the Thirteenth and did the Lieutenant's paperwork, what with all the sudden arrivals of Ichumaru, Yamamoto decided that he might have to reconsider.


	48. Circle of Brutes

**48.  
**

**Title: **Circle of Brutes **  
********Prompt: **Sequel to #26  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Isane**  
Word Count: **556  
**A/N:** A little while back, ru-kujaku asked for a follow up on #26. Sorry for keeping you waiting so long! Here it is!

The next morning dawned bright and early and Isane yawned. She hadn't dreamt after talking to Unohana-taicho, and for that she was grateful. Today was going to be a killer. Hopefully not literally, but considering that this was _Division Eleven_ she was dealing with...she didn't have very high hopes.

The story was that Division Eleven always volunteered for the ever-infreuqent patrols of the highest districts of Rukongai. And it always ended up in a brawl, often drunken.

And just as often, the Fourth Division medics that accompany every such patrol finds more patients on their hands than they can deal with, though each year they send more and more healers as they can spare them.

Isane just doesn't see the point. It's going to happen because no one is doing anything to stop it. It's going to happen, people are going to get hurt, and she'll get a migraine by midday, if not earlier.

That's how these things worked.

Incidentally, Yumichika was the worst offender when he patrolled. He could and would knock out a dozen thugs for insulting his beauty or his manliness. One would have thought him to be the one civilized shining light in that Division...but they really were hopeless. All of those brutes were absolutely, hopelessly hopeless.

And so the knock to her room wasn't overly surprising. Even less so when she told the harbinger to come in and tell her that there was a 'situation requiring her immediate assistance' in the works. Isane nodded, yawned once, looked around, took the last golden-brassy bead she hadn't finished putting in her hair, and followed the obviously tense messenger to the bowels of the Division.

It was really no surprise to see the Division Eleven curs and brutes moaning in pain. In fact, she felt a sick twinge of satisfaction. Like they had gotten what was coming.

And then exasperation: could they go one patrol without a fight?

Anger. How dare they carelessly get injured and expect her and her squad to immediately take care of them _every single time_?

Finally came a bone-deep exhaustive weariness. She knew that the poor Rukongai souls who had been caught in the brawl (or the crossfire) had gotten field treatments. Unohana-taicho was there, so they would be alright. But these brutes? No excuse.

None at all.

They brought it on themselves for picking the stupid fights.

They could wait a moment longer.

With that thought, Isane headed out for the Twelfth. Maybe they could whip something up to help with the Eleventh Division. She didn't like that place, not one bit, but she was sick and tired of it.

How had Unohana-taicho put up with it? Ever?

About halfway there, she turned back with a sigh. Anything the Twelfth Division made them would inevitably and invariably give the Fourth more worl. She'd love to see the end of these ogres. She decided not to risk it.

Her hands were coated in a healing-green reiatsu glow. There was nothing she could do but heal them, but she could confine them to bed for several days for their injuries, couldn't she? That wouldn't be so much extra work, either.

And maybe, sober, one of them would actually prove to be a gem.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Well, not likely. But it didn't hurt to try. Besides, it'd teach them a _lesson._


	49. All the Senses

**49.  
**

**Title:** All the Senses**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Tousen**  
Word Count: **315

Touch, a gasping, tingling, tactileness.

Hearing, a whooshing, swooshing, audibleness

Smell, a fragrant, aromatic, olfactoriness.

Taste, a sour-sweet, tip-of-the-tongue thing, full of sparking peppers and cooling olives.

These are the senses that are left to him, his sight long ago lost.

These are how he perceives the world, these and his justice.

These are the things that he is never really selfish about. What does it matter if the smell is acrid or sweet, if it works, or tastes good if it fills the empty holes. What matters about the sound of peaceful things when they can help you pick out hollows in the distance?

What matters is fear and determination. One should fear what can hurt all of mankind so easily as a hollow hurts a young Plus: war. Fighting. Brawls. Lawlessness.

There was a reason that there were so few civil disturbances involving Division Nine. Tousen had already taught them that all of the things that could cause such disturbances were bad. And they had learned their lessons well. So they were Amity-like peaceful. Always.

And he learned that to see was not the end all be all once again. His eyes were not necessary to sense Justice, nor his smell nor taste nor touch nor hearing. It was a sense of right and wrong, moral and amoral, honor and dishonor.

And that sense was a necessity for his way of living. He would abide by the law. He would make sure that there were no threats. He would preserve his Justice.

Because he believed in no one else's for himself, but taught them to believe in their own Justice, and to fear that which is bad enough to cause serious damage to them and their combatants.

He would stand strong on his beliefs, standing stronger to make up for what he never knew, and one day Seireitei wouldn't know what hit them.


	50. Chemical Reactions

**50.  
**

**Title: **Chemical Reactions**  
********Prompt: **Szayel, what's for dinner?  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Szayel, Ichimaru, Aizen, Ulquiorra, Hallibel**  
Word Count: **766  
**A/N:** Yay! I made it to 50! I'm really sorry about missing the last two days. I got really wrapped up in homework and reading the Divergent duo by Veronica Roth. They're amazing, and I'd recommend them to anyone. :) Thanks to Devil'sEyeAlchemist13 for the prompt. The chemistry stuff here is actually accurate, if you were curious.

Szayel pushed up his sleeves as he held up a suspicious looking aqueous solution that happened to be pink. It was bubbling, and he was observing the chemical reaction. The solution was starting to turn a sickly light green-lavender color, and the bubbling was tapered off.

Contrary to popular belief, chemicals only bubbled in the midst of a chemical reaction that released a gas as a product. He idly swirled the beaker to make sure the reaction had finished. Much to his annoyance, it began a small fit of fizzing again. Just as it started to settle once again, the doors to his laboratory burst open. A quick reiatsu check identified the intruder as Ichimaru-sama.

Of course. The only others who dared enter that way were some of the Espada, who had soon discovered all sorts of oddities with their lives in general, and had generally gotten the point. But Ichimaru-sama was different. He couldn't get away with it if it were Ichimaru-sama. He set the beaker down on the scale, took a measurement, and put it back on the table.

After that, he merely stood there until he was convinced that Ichimaru-sama had left. It was a game the pair of them played often, Szayel unwilling to leave the laboratory while Ichimaru-sama was there, even for a moment, and Ichimaru-sama glad to bother Szayel. This time, he heard the creak of a door. He had won.

Szayel let out a sigh of relief and walked out towards his storeroom. He needed some more 12M hydrochloric acid for the next reaction, and he didn't keep the really strong stuff in his laboratory.

He touched the shelves of chemicals from the human world, humming lightly under his breath, until he came to his collection of hydrochloric acids. He noted to himself that he needed some more 6M hydrochloric and that a little more 3M hydrobromic wouldn't hurt a bit before taking the 12M hydrochloric. And finding that the storeroom was locked. Locked. _Shit._ Ichimaru-sama hadn't left after all, apparently.

He walked back to his acids. He could construct something strong to eat its way through the door, and complain to Aizen-sama for all the good it did. He suspected that it amused Aizen-sama more than anything else. But he had to get out of there before Ichimaru-sama did anything drastic with his chemicals.

Luckily for him, it seemed that his laboratory was untouched when he got free. However, Ichimaru-sama wasn't there. If it wasn't Ichimaru-sama, then who did it?

Maybe he just made a mistake when designing the lock, and it malfunctioned? No, he was sure that was not the case. No matter how extra-complicated he had made that particular lock, so that the assorted random oafs and curs couldn't get into that room. And Ichimaru-sama.

He sighed. Time to get back to work. He measured out 20 mL of 12M HCl and continued his experiment on the reaction of hollow mask materiel to human world acids and bases. It might make good armor, if worked just right.

* * *

He sat down with a tiredness disguised with flourish at the dinner table that night. The dreaded tea was already poured, so he warmed his hands by putting them around the steaming cup. Five minutes later, every respectable Espada was at the table. Ichimaru-sama was inconspicuously present, by the wall.

Aizen-sama appeared to be unruffled feathers at the head of the table...until the dinner brought in by a quartet of Numeros was uncovered. Then he smiled a little bit. Szayel knew why. Lasagna Night was apparently Aizen-sama's favorite. He personally didn't care much either way for the saucy creation.

It was Aizen-sama who took the first bite, and afterwards the smile fell off his face. Hallibel took the next one, and her face twisted with distaste for a moment. Ulquiorra tried a bit. Straight faced, he turned to Szayel. "What did you do to it?"

Szayel was honestly confused. Tonight, he hadn't done anything to the meal. No one messed with Lasagna Night, because Aizen-sama was more lenient towards 'unsatisfactory behavior' if he was placated with lasagna. "I did nothing to the meal." He took a bite, and felt bile rise in his throat at the taste. He grimaced. What in Hueco Mundo was that taste?

Out of the corner of his eye, Szayel saw Ichimaru-sama's smirking face and a flash of half-opened eyes, though he still didn't quite catch the color, beside that they were light. He cursed mentally as he saw Aizen-sama's 'benevolent smile'. "Szayel, what's for dinner?"

For once, Szayel had no answer to that question.


	51. Battling Boredom

**51.  
**

**Title: **Battling Boredom**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Grimmjow**  
Word Count: **429  
**A/N:** Okay, so I ran out of books to read and I couldn't get out of the library. Luckily, I came across this book, The Soul of a Horse by Joe Camp, as a gift I had gotten years ago but never read. After I came home from school, I got this plot bunny about a certain pun...and I couldn't figure out how to write it. I did get this, though, so you get this instead.

Grimmjow kicked at the sands, looking for a hollower point. To say that he was bored was a tremendous understatement. There was practically no one left. Hallibel wasn't looking for sparring partners, and her Fraccion weren't any better. And he had lost _his_ early on.

Not that they were just Fraccion, they were his companions from the desert days. D-Roy and Shawlong the rest of the crew. Maybe that's why he hadn't chosen any more. But it did leave him excessively irritated and with no one to give him a good fight. So he'd go beat up some Gillians for a while, and possibly throw around an Adjuchas or two.

What could he say? He was bored.

Besides, all he'd have to do was go down to the old Forest. People would come for him if he did. Maybe one of them would be able to give him a good fight, though that was unlikely. For once, he cursed his increase in power that came along with becoming an Arrancar. Sure, it was nice to beat up that cocky orange-haired idiot, even if he had to deal with Sad Face the Brown Noser to do it.

But he couldn't fight Kurosaki Ichigo now. Wouldn't be worth it. So to the Menos Forest it was.

Three minutes later, he came across a quartz-like tree. He grabbed onto the main 'trunk' and slid down through the sand, dropping to the jungle floor with the nimbleness of the cat he used to be.

A roar of Gillians came from his left. He smirked and took a turn, manifesting a bala and throwing it at the back of the Gillian closest to him.

It roared as the single bala ripped a huge slice into it. A pair of bala later, that menos was no more. A barrage of bala, slashes from Pantera, and the occassional cero later, the army of Gillian was reduced to one. Grimmjow and it ate the spoils of their little war. Grimmjow could tell that the Menos was close to Adjuchas, but it wasn't quite there yet.

A little longer, though. He spotted another army of Gillian and took off in that direction. Might as well see what else this place had to offer. After all, if there were so many 'more powerful Gillian' (He came across two more in that army, and one in the third) there might be something worthwhile in this place.

He climbed back up through the trunk of a tree, and walked back to Las Noches. Well, at least he wasn't so bored anymore.


	52. Looking After Young People

**52.  
**

**Title: **Watch the Younger People**  
********Prompt: **Babysitting  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Ichigo, Karin, Yuzu, Nel, Yachiru, Nnoitora, Renji**  
Word Count: **399  
**A/N:** Prompt is from Devil'sEyeAlchemist13. Inspired by the Substitute Shinigami Work Diary or whatever Rukia deigned it.

After Mom died when I was younger, it became my job to look after Karin and Yuzu. Otou-san started acted how he does now-the crazy, goofball of a dad who wakes his son up every morning with a kick or a punch to the face. Not trusted around impressionable little kids.

So, it stands to reason, that I'd learn how to take care of them rather well. That's true. I didn't have to deal with diapers, I wasn't a parent. But I was an older brother, and thus a little closer and easier and the go-to guy for them. That's alright. It's what I wanted to be. If it would protect them at all, it's what I wanted to be. We all made our resolutions to Mom, and that was mine, to protect them.

So I forwent all that 'you can cry when I'm here' crap with Karin, implying to her instead that it never happened if no one was there to hear it, and that I'd be there to help anyway. When Yuzu was old enough to actually take on the kitchen, I taught her how to cook, and to always use oven mitts and that if you let the grease melt a little, but not too much, it worked better.

I walked them to school every day, listened to their chatter about their assignments, teachers, classmates. I dealt with teaching them what they didn't understand. They fussed over me when stupid people challenged me about my hair, during the rough years called middle school. I fussed over them when someone hurt Yuzu's feelings or tried something with Karin's soccer team. When they got bullied at school, or for being associated with me.

We generally watched out for each other, and for Goat-face.

So, it stood to reason that I was good with dealing with kids. The pair of them anyway, my sisters.

What did _not_ stand to reason was how that translated to babysitting _Yachiru_. Don't get me wrong. She's not a bad little girl. Just a little bit...energetic. Sugar-crazed. Yeah, let's go with that. And I hadn't even seen Renji, so I couldn't refuse her. I had a schedule. It was _Renji's_ turn today.

Or her messes.

And what made even less sense was when Nel appeared ouside of his home two weeks later, with a note that said: _Babysit her. Just keep her busy...please! -5_


	53. Oil and Water

**53.**

**Title: **Oil and Water**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Byakuya, Ichigo**  
****Word Count: **1117  
**A/N:** Spoilers for recent manga chapters. The conversation was mostly copied from the manga chapter 512. This one was long. J I just had a lot to write for this scene.

He might as well have been an unseated officer, Byakuya thought, for all the damage he had done in return for the blows he had received. By his own sword, no less. A person without any power, only fit to destroy small things and cower or drop water when mixed with oil in the face of something powerful.

He was a _Captain_. It was ridiculous. _He _was the one of the ones supposed to be the oil, and rise to the challenge. He was supposed to rise despite any shakes, any cracks, any losses less than that of his life. And he was supposed to be on such a high pedestal that he wouldn't lose his life easily.

He was supposed to be above such petty things as dying to the first of the footmen who he faced. Did he not take down the 7th Espada, and help with the 10th by killing him only as collateral damage in Aizen's Winter War? Could he not face Zaraki, or Kurosaki Ichigo without fear and without death? Without losing even his ability to move?

Was he not part of the elite, at the top of everything? Where did he go wrong? Why was he dying after such an enemy?

He shouldn't need a Bankai to go after someone who uses fear as their only weapon. He shouldn't even need a sword, having kept up on his Hakuda. They should be defenseless. So why had he not been able to move?

Why could he not move, even now, as he bled out from scores, hundreds, thousands of scratches and cuts brought on by an onslaught of Senbonzakura Kageyoshi. He should not be so mortally wounded that, instead of his sword rallying against him once more, Senbonzakura's Bankai disappeared. A sure sign of his upcoming demise. When a shinigami's Shikai or Bankai disappeared, it meant that they were close to death.

Was he really that close?

No. He refused to be. He had people and things to live for. A war to win. Comrades. Acquaintances. A clan. A Division. Even now, he started to have friends, a sister, people he held dear to him. People who counted on him to live, to endure, to survive.

No. He would be selfish this time, this one last time. He'd be selfish and say that foremost, he wanted to life for himself. He wanted to live to see the color of the sunset, to finally make that calligraphic gift for Kurosaki Ichigo in thanks, to train his brash, impulse-driven lunatic of a lieutenant, and perhaps see him to Captain. To laugh perhaps. To live.

He did not want to die, but he was dying, and, especially in these final moments, he could tell that Soul Society was doomed. That was unacceptable. He couldn't even protect those he wished to. He saw Rukia and Renji and felt a pang.

Then he felt the spiritual pressure of Kurosaki Ichigo enter Soul Society. To his surprise, he felt it settle in front of him. Why?He opened his eyes. The boy was already in his Bankai, jacket somewhat tattered about the edges and intact, bleeding from a small head wound. The head wounds always bled badly. He saw the bright orange candle blow in the wind, only for it to be the boy's hair.

No, not boy. Young man. He couldn't call someone like Kurosaki Ichigo a boy any longer.

And he knew he had to ask, ask more though it was well and truly not his place to, and somehow knew that the young man was listening, despite the fact that he had yet to look in Byakuya direction.

The floodgates broke. What use was sugar-coating anything? He just had something to say before he passed, and he needed to say it. As a person who Kurosaki Ichigo considered a friend, if not as a Captain. Definitely not as a Kuchiki Clan Head. But first, he decided, he would be selfish.

At first, he could not get his mouth to move. Finally, he croaked out, "Alive?" He tried again. "Are Rukia...and Renji...alive?"

His answering tone was inexplicably solemn and almost sad in a distracted sort of manner. "Yeah. They're fine. They're alive." He knew the tone well, and felt another pang to see this brash, impulse-driven young man (not too unlike his rowdy Lieutenant) so serious sounding. It reminded him of something Yoruichi had told him of another Kurosaki, a man named Isshin whom he had never met, who was a verifiable goofball unless something was so serious that it demanded that kind of a tone.

"Good." His mouth closed, lips twitching in indecision. But they were soon opened again. He had to ask, to be selfish during this final hour. "I will not...last much longer..." He breathed deeply, panting as he paused.

"Despite being a Captain of the Gotei 13...I was unable to defeat the foul enemy that invaded Seireitei. I let many valuable soldiers die...causing the suffering of their subordinates and families...and in the end I failed miserably. I am ashamed of all of this." He didn't know where this confession was coming from, but it was like a faucet he couldn't close.

He was helpless as his voice turned pleading. "On the other hand...you are a human. Normally, not only you shouldn't be involved in all this, but you should not even be here right now." At one point during his monologuing , Kurosaki had turned towards him. "Yet...I'm going to ask you...a favor. Please forgive this despicable behavior of mine."

What was that other wetness on his face? Were they _tears_?

"Please. Protect Soul Society, Kurosaki Ichigo."

His face was turned so Byakuya saw his side profile. Byakuya saw, through the blurriness, the tightening of his eyes and the steeliness of his forming resolve. "Yes, Byakuya." The somber tone was underlined with determination. "I promise."

And he closed my eyes, not watching Ichigo leave. This person…he could protect the Soul Society. And he would. He always would. Of that, Byakuya was certain. No matter how hard it was to protect-and it was hard to protect. He'd always failed to protect even the one person he'd promised to. The young man always protected all of his friends simultaneously.

After all, Ichigo was the Protector. If there was one thing he succeeded at, it was protecting.

Maybe, after all, Byakuya was part of the water, and Ichigo was the oil. Or maybe Ichigo was just the impurities in the oil, the type that stayed high above even the oil in the water. Above Hell and high water and even the Captain Commander. Never to be fazed or defeated or to give up that lofty spot.


	54. Necessity

**54.  
**

**Title: **Necessity**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Ukitake, Kiyone, Sentaro, Shunsui**  
Word Count: **413  
**A/N:** I didn't have a clue what I was writing when I wrote this. I was about halfway through before I decided that Soi Fon was not the bee, and a possible ending. Sorry for posting this at such a weird time. I fell asleep right after dinner, and I awkwardly woke up a couple hours before I have to leave.

_A garden bloomed somewhere in the Seireitei, and a little bee buzzed around the flower._

"Taicho!" Kiyone shouted. "Taicho!" Sentaro shouted after her, all the way to Ukitake's sick home. "Taicho! Taicho! Taicho!"

_It buzzed around quite happily before settling on one purple petal of one of the few winter-hardy flowers.  
_

"Taicho! There's news!" Kiyone shouted over Sentaro's protest that he wanted to be the one who told Captain. "Taicho! News came in from the first!" A Hell Butterfly flew in behind them. Ukitake couldn't help but to feel bad for the poor butterfly.

_It was one of the only flowers in bloom.  
_

The butterfly landed, light-footed and prim despite being obviously battered about the edges, on Ukitake's hair. He listened to the message with growing alarm. Kiyone and Sentaro stand, shaking with barely controlled energy as they wait for it to finish._  
_

_The bee circled the flower three times, looking for a good spot to land.  
_

The message, as it was, was from Shunsui. That, in a sense, was the only normal thing about that message.

_Upon finding that spot, the bee stepped lightly onto the petals of the flower._

Ukitake pushed himself up. If things were this serious in Seireitei, then he had no business laying around sick. If things were as Shunsui saw them - and Shunsui had better intuition and intelligence than most, coupled with old age's experience - the was work to be done, and it would be up to them to do it.

_The bee suckled nectar from its core quickly._

Ukitake had made the preparations when Shunsui showed up, Shihoin seal in tow. It was going to be a lot of work to make it useable in such a short period of time, but they were going to do it. They were going to make it in time.

_Now finished, the bee leaves the flower in search of new skies._

The seal was useable just as Kiyone and Sentaro started shouting outside of Ukitake's door that it was time for the execution. Ukitake felt his face set as he and his closest friend picked up the seal. If he felt the slightest bit apprehensive, he wasn't going to communicate it to everyone. But now wasn't the time for that. Now was the time to act, and, in this case, now was the time to destroy the Sougyoku.

He only hoped that their old teacher, Yamamoto-jiisan, would eventually forgive him for what he was about to do.


	55. Starlit Nights

**55.  
**

**Title: **Starlit Nights**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Hinamori**  
Word Count: **634  
**A/N:** I know it says I already updated today, but I didn't I fell asleep early last night and woke up hours before even school, so I finished yesterdays (which was already mostly done) and posted it. Just so you all know, for those of you who still read this (if there are any of you, and if there are, thank you). Long AN today, sorry. Features a younger Toushiro.  
**Note on NaNoWriMo:** I /might/ be slowing down on this during November because I plan on doing NaNoWriMo. Depending on the first day, I /might/ be doing a fanfiction, so you might still get something new later from me, but not here. I'll probably say something on Halloween as well to this extent.  
**Disclaimer:** This chapter does not keep true to science.

Some nights, when I looked up at the sky, I felt as if I could touch the stars. I could feel their cool, white light and be bathed in radiance. I could trace their subtle patterns with the pads of my fingertips and see her laughing as she tried to follow. I could always spot them faster than she could,

Some days, I would go into the market. I always went with a list made up in my head and a decided effort not to scowl. I remembered the days, not so long ago, when I was completely unwelcome by the shops. After that chance meeting that made me move away from my Obaa-chan, I learned how to make it so that they couldn't feel the coldness around me.

But I knew it was there, and that it would always be there. I dreamt when I slept, and I dreamt of dragons. No, a single, solitary dragon. It was made completely of ice and had shiny red eyes that seemed to be unblinking spots of color on the nearly colorless face. I dreamt of its low rumbling voice, somehow cloudy and clear and entirely too girl from that day said the dragon was important, or would be very important, to me.

The _shinigami_...her name was Matsumoto. She had said and done a lot of curious things, from telling me to hide my power, then showing me when she realized I didn't know how. Power? I had _power_? Was that why they were always so cold to me in the market, I had thought.

It turned out that it had not been them that was cold, but me. Just me. And that dragon of ice. That _important_ icy dragon.

And then she told me to leave home, that it wasn't safe, that once I learned a little control I could come see her but that it would never be safe. That Obaa-chan might get eaten by monsters if I stayed. _Monsters. Yeah, right. People think that those of us who are shorter are just plain dumb. See how well you can pull that one over me. _Unfortunately, that just made me look like more of an idiot when she showed me what one of those 'monsters' looked like. That was probably the scariest thought I ever had, seeing something like that standing over Obaa-chan. Insert blood. I felt like screaming.

But I didn't. Screaming would make me appear weak in front of this woman. You learn very quickly, even in a higher district, that you don't show weakness and gain any respect.

You don't show weakness or deviance from the norm and expect to go home with any reputation you want anywhere near your name in a conversation.

So I didn't often go into town. I needed to be careful when I did. For that reason, among others, I much preferred to be watching the stars over the house I shared with a girl that Matsumoto introduced me to, Hinamori, on the other side my home district. Apparently Hinamori had enough power to be around me without me harming her.

Good. I have no intentions of hurting _anyone._ Even the extremely rude ones.

I didn't expect to get attached. I didn't expect Hinamori Momo to take the role of a sister in my life. I didn't expect to perpetuate her death.

But no matter. That's far in the future. For now, I merely look up at the stars with dreams full of daunting ice dragons and an annoying predilection towards the snowy months. Tracing constellations and missing Obaa-chan.

Living. That's all that is my job for now. The future will come when it will, wound where and when it will. But for now, I can be happy.

I fully intend to take advantage of that.


	56. Can You See Me Now

**56.  
**

**Title: **Can You See Me Now**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Rukia, Ichigo**  
Word Count: **224  
**A/N:** Well, I had this 700+ one of Shuuhei as a kid for ru-kujaku, but it didn't save so I lost it. So you get this thing. Deal with it. I kinda had **_Clowns by T.a.t.U._** stuck in my head as I wrote it, so I think you might want to listen to it as you read this. I really should be doing HW, not writing another one, but whatever.

The day after Ichigo finally lost the last remnants of his power for the second time, Rukia came back to Karakura. And the day after. And the day after that.

She sat in the empty chair in class that was once hers after school ended. She watched from rooftops and corners and the sky. She took care of the one hollow that came to pester innocent souls in the process, but her mind wasn't into that. _Can you see me now?_

The fourth day it rained as she came. _All this weeping in the air, who can tell where it will fall? _But Rukia knew better. She knew how he reacted to the rain, the nostalgic look he gave the sky on rainy mornings. It always falls on your head, she thinks to him. On your head, every time.

He did everything and anything and the impossibilities along with the possible. He'd gone _through floating forests in the air_, and he'd _cross the rolling, open sea_ if that's what it took. He was amazing in that way. He persevered the world, and you did it despite _clowns all around you._

She admired it greatly, that he had done it, but it still saddened her. _I run through air_. I run through air to find _you.__  
_

So, can you see? _Can you see me now?_


	57. Keeping A Promise

**57.  
**

**Title: **Keeping A Promise**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Orihime, younger Orihime, younger Ichigo, some Ichihime**  
Word Count: **769  
**A/N:** Things are...hectic right now. I'm reading Torah at a Bar Mitzvah this weekend, school's impossible with the end of the marking period coming up, and I've got a cold, so sorry if things aren't up to usual lengths/quality for the next couple of days. I did my research for this one. I decided there had to be some reason Orihime could eat what she did. Sorry if it's depressing. I really do hate Ichihime, but it's what fits into this piece.

Orihime drizzled maple syrup onto her wasabi-and-peanut-butter sandwich with a sigh. People were always so surprised when she brought in 'odd' combinations of food. In truth, she didn't really care what was in her food. But not for the reasons everybody thought.

Orihime was afflicted with permanent hyposmia. Basically, she couldn't smell. And she hadn't been able to since she was a kid. Actually, it was a part of a disease she'd been born with, called Refsum disease.

The disease was also why she was a klutz. Ataxy-whatever the doctor had called it. Random muscle spasms, and the like. She was just told not to eat certain types of food and sent on her way since she couldn't afford any other medication.

That was fine with Orihime, though it still caused her trouble from time to time. At least she found ways to amuse herself with it. Since she couldn't really smell much of anything, she couldn't taste it. She just relied on her taste buds for the texture of the food. So she made 'wacky' food combinations that she didn't have any problems with. Foods she liked the textures of.

Everyone else ate foods they liked, so why couldn't she?

That's what she had thought at first. And then came the comments on her choice of food. After that, she kept doing it for the novelty factor. How many people could she weird out today with her food combinations? Even Tatsuki wouldn't touch them.

It was also something to force her to eat. Orihime enjoyed cooking, but she forgot to eat sometimes. So she surrounded herself with food as much as she could, food that no one else would eat. She would remember, even on those days where she felt listless and like it wasn't worth the trouble to make the food, much less eat it.

But she was a growing girl, and a spiritually aware one who was actively fighting in a war. She didn't really know _why_, of course, but Rukia-chan was her friend too, and Abarai-kun, and Kurosaki-kun. And Kurosaki-kun was someone who cared all the time even if he didn't choose to show it.

He was the one to get her to eat after Sora's death.

That was the day they had met for the first time for real, when she showed up at his doorstep, bleeding and dying brother in her arms. He'd found her near where her brother was injured and had sat with her. He'd been patient, not really talking or doing anything. Just being there. On the fourth day, she heard the story of his mother's death. On the sixth day, she broke and told him about her brother.

She told him about waiting for him on the snowy day, because he had to be there to help her make the snowman.

She told him about the hair clips she hadn't thanked him for, how she hadn't said 'Have a good day, Onii-chan!" that morning, like she always did.

She told him about being sick and not having medication.

She told him about everything.

He listened surprisingly well. He then told her that she was really skinny and haven't you eaten? Her stomach had growled and they had made their way back to Orihime's apartment, where Ichigo had made them both a simple meal, and Ichigo had made her promise to eat, and to live. He'd told her that she could be sad, but don't hide away because people around you _care._

Years later, Orihime was certain Ichigo had forgotten that week. It was understandable. They were really little. But Orihime had never forgotten. Ichigo was there for her then, would always be there to rely upon. That's what she felt, anyway. Even if it was untrue or unhealthy, that's what she felt.

In reality, she would never be able to make that up to Ichigo. So she kept the promise she'd made back then.

_Kurosaki-kun frowned at her from across the table. "Inoue-chan, please promise me that you'll keep eating, and rely on other people's strenght. There's people out there who are hurt by the same things as you, people that you can rely on. Right?"_

_Orihime swung her legs, one hand clutched around the barettes in her pocket. She stared at the table. "Hai, Kurosaki-kun. I promise."  
_

She might be Inoue to him now, not Inoue-chan, but it was the same thing. So she kept eating no matter how she forced herself to, and she surrounded herself with friends that she could rely on. But she would always rely on Kurosaki-kun, and she would always keep her promise._  
_


	58. Bad Day or Chance

**58.  
**

**Title: **Bad Day or Chance **  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Ichigo, Ichigo's Hollow, mentions of others**  
Word Count: **442  
**A/N:** I've always felt kinda bad for Ichigo's hollow. I mean, Ichi never really gives him a chance. Imagine if you had this endless, nearly dichromic place that you could never escape from. Wouldn't you want to see some fresh sights too? And wouldn't you be less than sane after a deal of time like that? On another note: the new manga chapter. I refuse to touch that with a five meter pole, especially the last two pages, and please just finish whatever you've got for Byakuya. Please.  
No accent because its written from a very close 3rd person, not a 1st person.

Today was the day.

It had started as an ordinary day, but it had quickly progressed into a much more than ordinary one. An extraordinary day. For him, anyway. He imagined that his old _Aibou _wasn't faring quite as well. And, well, that was alright with him!

Because today was a very special day. Today was the day that he gained control.

It all started with a good-morning kick. Or lack thereof. Achingly obvious lack thereof, until Ichigo remembered that his father was at a conference. He wasn't sure what it was on this time, but he wasn't about to question it.

Until it turned out that Yuzu was sick, so he spent the morning making breakfast for the three of them. It was not his worst failure for sure, but his scrambled eggs were a little too cooked. Probably because it was a very long time since he last made breakfast for himself, due to Yuzu's pampering.

Then he realized that Kon had messed up his closet during the last time he had spent a few hours in his room on his own when Ichigo was in Soul Society. He didn't know where his favorite shirt was, much less his spare uniforms. He had managed to put together something, but because of it he was late to school.

At that point, his day took a more serious turn for the worse. There were three hollows that day, an unusually high number for even Karakura town, and two of them were Menos-class. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know why there were _two_ hollows with_ Menos-class _reiatsu in a single day, much less in the same two hours.

One of them had managed to injure him, and now his shoulder stung like it did after it absorbed a cero from a medium-classed hollow point-blank, and this was hours after the injury.

No one had even sensed the fourth hollow until it had shredded his body. Ichigo had been getting his shoulder healed at the time by Inoue.

It was at first a searing sensation emanating from the center of his chest, so painful that Ichigo's mouth moved into an involuntary scream, noiseless, and he retched. Then it felt like he was being torn in twain, like he was the rope for some tug-of-war with no particular direction he was being pulled in. More like every direction. I'd felt it too. Not such a pleasant sensation.

Then came the fight. Aibou was all worn out and excessively irritated, and he had a chance. So he did what any self-respecting hollow would do: he crushed my weaker counterpart. He's still alive or dead or whatever, but 'I don't have a name!' gets to use his form. Aibou can _rot_.

And he likes it.


	59. Something Special

**59.  
**

**Title: **Something Special**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Kaien, younger Rukia**  
Word Count: **782  
**A/N:** I was seriously considering skipping today considering that it was my little brother's bar mitzvah service, but then I saw that it was Kaien's birthday and I had to write _something._ That, and I was listening to Shine by Anna Nalik when I decided this. The morose mood may have something to do with something that happened today, so sorry. And the end was a bit abrupt, but that was intentional.

It was obvious that she was something special when she first transferred to the Thirteenth Division, and not because she was a Rukongai brat who toted some noble name.

It was obvious in her mannerisms, though obviously in the process of being adjusted to please the Kuchiki. He hoped with all his heart that they would not ruin her. She hadn't even started to shine yet, not with her true strength. She still had some of the honesty of the outer-district Rukongai resident she had been only a scant five years before.

Put shortly, she was something special.

And she didn't have a clue.

He laughed at her stuttering at his easy mannerism, smiled as she responded to his natural charisma, cherished her development when she asked him for help. He would see her develop, would help her for as long as he could, would stand by her side and force her to her natural pinnacle.

He knew Ukitake sensed it from her as well. Which was one of the reasons that he had tried to get her into a seated officer's position, despite her brother's 'reservations'. _A fear of letting go_, Kaien thought to himself. But that was a very private thought. Anything more would be dancing with fire.

Rukia was not a dancing fire. She was a dancing ice queen, sleeved and robed in snow.

He remembered helping her learn her zanpakutou's name. _Sode no Shirayuki_. He remembered trying to understand how a girl like her could use an ice zanpakutou, and not something warmer.

But then he realized that the ice was not cold, but beauty. That every snowflake was beautiful and individual, that ice flowed gracefully, but can be used forcefully if need be. Then he realized that Sode no Shirayuki was just an extension of her _special._

So he nurtured her, watched her grow, became a mentor figure to her. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that he was training her in such a way as to have her end up somewhere high someday. Vice Captain, likely, unless she got a Bankai. He thought even that might be possible, with determination. Ukitake knew it too, because he wasn't an idiot either. But he never said anything. Maybe he agreed._  
_

That would be something.

But he was sure that his ill captain had seen many things, observed many people through his many years. Rukia was much better than the unseated officer her brother forced her to stagnate at.

Unseated officers didn't have shikais, much less one as potentially powerful as hers. Unseated officers didn't get patrols on their own, much less hollow patrols, and the ones who did manage to get one somehow didn't usually make it back to tell the tale. Much less make it back uninjured, or with a minor scratch or two. Unseated officers didn't need limiters used on Captains and Vice Captains when they enter the Living World.

Unseated officers weren't powerful enough for any of that. Rukia had achieved all of those.

Kaien didn't like dealing with nobles. Too stuffy, too self-important, too arrogant, and too damn prissy. But he tried to do it for Rukia's sake, tried fighting her brother on the little manner of that. Even a low seat would be better than none, and he was ready to settle for _twentieth_ by the end of the conversation.

Idiots.

Kaien remembered the look on her face the first time she had frozen him in a pillar of ice. It was easily breakable, but that was merely the first. He had grinned, clapped his hand over her shoulder, let her work through her shock, and ordered her to do another dozen.

Both came back that day worn out, but with grins that stretched across their faces.

Miyako liked her as well. She saw potential, a child who had the potential to grow and mature into considerable power. She tried to teach Rukia about other stuff, like things about the insides of the division. As much as a third seat saw, anyway. Which was a lot more than anyone expected.

For years they trained. Kaien and Miyako were genuinely fond of Rukia, and they treated her like she was _their_ little sister, not a Kuchiki. Rukia smiled with them, laughed, learned, and grew. Especially around Kaien, she forwent all of the Kuchiki crap.

Her kido was that of a master. Sode no Shirayuki's first dance could take out any hollow lower than Menos-class. Her second dance was starting to become a formidable attack.

She was living proof of what he had thought all those hours, days, minutes ago: Rukia was something special.

If only he had lived to see her fulfill his expectations.


	60. Dragons Like Hollows

**60.  
**

**Title: **Dragons Like Hollows**  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Yuzu**  
Word Count: **404  
**A/N:** I should be sleeping right now, busy day that I had and all, but I decided that I'd take care of this first. I know that you asked for something peppy, 3Alaska3, but I can't do that today it seems. Too tired to use another idea. This isn't my true character view of Yuzu, but it's what made sense at the moment.

_"Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed." - **G.K. Chesterton**_

Yuzu Kurosaki had always known much more than she had told anyone. She had seen soul-ghosts at a much younger age than Karin had. She had even been seeing hollows for almost as long as her brother had.**  
**

She remembered hearing about them from the souls she talked to on a regular basis long before she had seen her first. They had been described as grotesque with white masks and distorted screams as their only voice. They had distinctive holes, mostly in their chests. They ate souls, and the souls feared them on some basic, instinctual level_._

Therefore the first time Yuzu had come into contact with a hollow, Yuzu had panicked. She had gone into shock, standing stick-still, watching the monster rear up on its hind trio of legs and roar. This was dangerous. This was something to be feared. This was killer. Her mind had short-circuited.

At the same time, she had seen people-souls of some sort-running around in uniform black hakama pants, a white shitagi, and a black kosode, held together by a white obi, tied for practicality. They would have seemed less threatening without the swords banging around at their sides.

Though she didn't get the evil feeling she got around those hollows, the one she did get was more than enough to make her nervous. Especially after witnessing her first konso.

Eventually it was bound to happen. One day, she came across a black-and-white clad soul fighting against a hollow. His sword was drawn, and his face was set even as the hollow roared.

Yuzu whimpered in the back of her throat. She had to warn the soul that the hollow was _dangerous_, that a sword couldn't wound, much less kill the invincible.

Then it did. Yuzu had been in on another shock as the hollow dissolved after being sliced open by the zanpakutou. She'd heard it was possible, but she didn't believe it.

She had known of the existence of the hollows. She hadn't relied on the souls' information to find out they existed. She _knew_ that they did. She'd known about them for even longer than the souls' information. But now she knew something even more important: the behemoths could be killed.

It seemed that hollows weren't invincible after all.


	61. Five Things Captains Deal With

**61.  
**

**Title: **Five Things Captains Deal With **  
********Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Captains of Seireitei**  
Word Count: **408  
**A/N:** Sorry about the mix-up. I accidentally re-uploaded yesterday's chapter. And sorry for the lateness, but I was hit by Hurricane Sandy and lost power, and I had major computer issues (i.e. not being able to turn the computer on & faulty keyboard). I do have a generator, though, and so I was able to connect to the internet for enough time to get this up. Sorry about the wait!

There were many things that people knew about the jobs of Captains, and many things they wondered about. What they didn't know was the tricks that every Captain used to get through them all.

_5. Shinigami Women's Association (aka SWA)  
_

The Gotei 13 had a whole slew of gossip-and-rumor mongers. There were the fairly innocuous ones, such as the Shinigami Men's Association, the SMA. There were the curious but decidedly uninvasive ones, such as Seireitei Communications. Then there were the outright invasive and _hungry_ gossip mongers. These people were known as the Shinigami Women's Association, the SWA._  
_

Male captains, beware.

_4. Training  
_

Firstly, a note from Unohana-taicho:

* * *

_To All Gotei 13 Captains,_

_Please forgo injuring your squad members in the name of 'training.' Anyone who does so will be hearing from me. Most of you are late on your last physicals, aren't you? And if you aren't then you don't have any reason not to be visiting the squad members you have injured.  
_

_Thank you, everyone,  
_

_Captain Unohana Retsu  
_

* * *

With that in mind, I suggest you choose your practice fields with care. Don't forget, the Fourth gets to clean those up _too.__  
_

_3. Holidays  
_

We know that many of the captains and captain-class shinigami have their own fan clubs, which may complicate the matter of holidays. We do recognize the fact that such holidays exist in the Living World, but we do not recognize them as Soul Society's holidays.

Therefore, you are expected to arrive at your office and do precisely the same amount of work as you are expected to on any other day. You are also required to be in your uniform. _This applies to the Living World holidays known as Halloween, White Day, and Valentine's Day especially._

_**Happy Hunting!**  
_

_2. __Rumors_  


Yes, we understand that the 'fan clubs' are extant. And we understand that these 'gossip mongers' are extant. They do this on their own time._  
_

**_What do you expect us to do?_**

_1. Paperwork  
_

Due Dates Are Closer Than They Appear._  
_

Period.

That being said, why is it all so _late?_

Secondly, freezing your superiors or subordinates to chairs, using bakudos to keep them at their seats, threatening with hados, threatening the confiscation of food, drink, blood, or, really, any threat or violence to get these people to stay where they are should is highly recommended. All of you should have an equal workload, and the First Division respects that.

_**Now Get It Done!**__  
_


	62. Out Of Power

**62. **

**Title: **Out Of Power**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Division Twelve, Division Eleven, Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Zaraki Kenpachi, Unohana Retsu, Rin**  
****Word Count: **412  
**A/N:** I wrote this one while still blacked out from Sandy. Two in one day to make up for the ones I've missed, though I'm not getting power back anytime soon. Too many downed trees.

The Twelfth Division was in a shambles. Or maybe it wasn't. Soul Society wasn't sure what that ominous beeping noise was.

Still, it was obvious that something was wrong when there was no other noise from Division Twelve. No one was running around, yelling out orders, reading off coordinates, doing experiments, or anything else. Even Nemu-fukutaicho wasn't moving, though that might be because she wasn't turned on at the moment. And, luckily for them, Kurotsuchi-taicho was sleeping.

They weren't doing anything because there was absolutely nothing they could do. Every computer screen was blank, every light was off, every Bunsen burner wasn't burning. All they had were candles, which were infernally inefficient.

Put simply, Division Twelve was out of power. Blacked out. In the dark. Electrically speaking, since they consider themselves the epitome of informed.

Scientifically, of course. They didn't claim to be Onmitsukido...though their new bugs...

Anyway, every member of Division Twelve just sat at their desks, doing nothing.

Unsurprisingly, the Seireitei noticed the conspicuous absences of madness and insanity. Unsurprisingly, Kurotsuchi was not awakened to see the failing.

Which meant that when Kurotsuchi woke up, all hell broke loose."You useless, incompetent imbeciles," screamed Kurotsuchi Mayuri's high pitch. "You-"

And then the ticking stopped, and all of Seireitei was covered in purple goop, effectively cutting off Kurotsuchi's tirade. And began his rampage.

Thankfully for Seireitei's future cleanup teams, Kurotsuchi didn't make it that far. Kenpachi didn't hear the screaming and stomping in the Division Twelve compound, but he felt Kurotsuchi's killer intent as he stamped outside of it, zanpakutou banging around his legs. So he decided to get in on it. Kurotsuchi was out of working order a few minutes later, since his anger clouded his reiatsu sense to the point where he could not sense Zaraki coming up behind him.

Then Zaraki and Division Eleven went on a rampage, pillaging and destroying, until they all got stuck in the purple goo and couldn't move.

And then Unohana came onto the scene, and promptly decided that her Division didn't deserve the abuse bringing Seireitei back to order from this would bring, so she started to smile at the trapped remnants of the Eleventh Division.

And somewhere, deep in the darkness of the Twelfth Division, Rin discovers something. "Ah-ah. Everyone, I found it!"

And every screen in the Twelfth Division started working again, every refrigerator, every battery, Kurotsuchi Nemu, the bugs, and the hollow-finding remotes. Ah. So _that's _where the generator was_._


	63. Tatsuki's Conclusions

**63.**

**Title: **Tatsuki's Conclusions**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Tatsuki, Orihime**  
****Word Count: **618  
**A/N:** I half-wrote this on the 31st, so I really lost my train of thought partway through. I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense, or it's terrible because of that. I can't promise an update every day, with the start of NaNoWriMo, though. I am participating this year, and I'm about 1k words in.

The morning had dawned early and the grass was wet and splattered with dew. It was a normal Thursday morning, with kids running around and getting ready for an early day, half-awake as always. **_"What the hell?"_** Okay, a _mostly_ normal morning.

The shout was definitely a girl's voice, from one Arisawa Tatsuki. She'd been walking to school, like any other morning, when she'd heard a scream that, for lack of a better word, _vibrated._ After that came the pounding footsteps, and another screaming roar.

She'd been walking with Orihime, who had flinched at the scream, and now had one hand clenched tightly on Tatsuki's forearm, with the other on one of her snowflake hair clips before she froze, realizing what she had done.

"Orihime?" Tatsuki asked, eyes narrowed, looking between her friend and the direction the roar had come from-and there it was again-and back. "What's wrong?"

Orihime just shook her head, as if to clear it or answer Tatsuki she wasn't sure. She placed he left arm back by her side, but didn't let go of Tatsuki as she let out a small laugh. "Wrong? Is something wrong?"

Tatsuki's eyebrows knitted. Orihime only used that tone if she was worried. Another roar came, which was cut off in the middle. A pressure from the same direction as the howl that she didn't even realize was fettering her left, and she breathed in deeply. Orihime's hand loosed.

Orihime, predictably, tried to laugh it off. "Sorry Tatsuki-chan, I just got lost in thought again!" or "Sorry Tatsuki-chan, I thought I heard something, but I guess it was nothing!" or "I'm really sorry Tatsuki-chan! I was thinking about that math test we were going to take today. Do you remember how to graph rational functions?" Or something else.

Tatsuki was frankly sick of it. She hated that Orihime felt the need to lie about anything to her. Weren't they best friends?

Fed up and deathly curious, one day she told Orihime that she had to go somewhere before school, and that she'd meet up with her later. She felt bad lying to Orihime, who just ate it all up, but she needed to know what was eating her friend up. So that day, she waited.

It didn't happen the first day, so a couple weeks later she tried again. A burbling, distorted roar echoed around town. _Ah. There we go._

For some reason, her instincts told her to flee. She didn't, running instead towards the disturbance. She hid around a corner when she could finally see it. Or not. She saw the outline of a bulky, hulking figure. It was perhaps eight feet wide and twelve feet tall, a shadowed gray. As she looked, the image made itself clearer.

She saw the hideous white mask over its face, the golden eyes on black. She saw that it had two ears, tall and darker gray, three feet straight up from its head. Worst of all, she thought, was the hole running through its chest.

Then she saw Orihime, both hands on her hair clips. She was about to scream at Orihime, tell her to get out of the way, to do _something_, when she heard her friend call out. **_"Koten Zanshun"_**

She saw something blurring the air around Orihime, and then the monster was cut in half . It started to dissolve when she heard Orihime say "Thanks, Tsubaki!" and Tatsuki came to a conclusion.

Orihime didn't need to be protected all of the time.

And then she came to another one.

She was going to make her tell her what in the world had just happened. Because she was certain it was not something she was supposed to see.


	64. Blanks and Pranks

**64.**

**Title: **Blanks and Pranks**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Renji, Byakuya**  
****Word Count: **325  
**A/N:** Well, I've got power back, which is a plus, but I've also managed to lose everything I did today and yesterday for my NaNoWriMo piece, so I'm back to 2k. If it goes well, though I'll probably post it in chunks at the end of the month. And I still won't touch what Kubo's writing right now with a five meter pole. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote the end, since I wrote it on two different days.

Renji scratches his head as he looks at the next form on the seemingly everlasting pile of paperwork on his desk. Seeing that it only needed a signature, he scribbled his name onto it and put it in the basket of work to be sent to his Captain for _his_ signature. He stretched out his arms a moment, before cracking them behind him and picking up the next paper in the pile.

A knock sounded at the door to his office. Kuchiki-taicho called for the person to come in. A First Division member (paper-pusher, Renji thought to himself) walked in and bowed. "Sirs, I have a parcel for Abarai Renji-fukutaicho."

Renji got up and went to the First Division member and took the oversized envelope. "Thanks," he mumbled. He received a crisp nod in return and the Division One member left.

"Abarai-fukutaicho," Kuchiki-taicho started as Renji went to open the envelope. "You can open your mail on your own time. You have work to finish."

"Fine, Taicho." Renji replied, setting aside the parcel. The next set of forms were tricky, and his attention started to drift.

"Abarai-fukutaicho, concentrate. And stop that infernal tapping." Kuchiki-taicho chastised him. He was tapping? "Your paperwork isn't going to do itself."

"Alright, Taicho."

That's why he found himself still at Sixth Division headquarters long after everyone else had gone to sleep, doing paperwork. Every ten minutes or so, he would look up and see the parcel from the First Division. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him, and he opened it.

It only held one sheet of paper. He slipped out the paper and read.

It was blank. What the heck?

He nearly hit his head on his desk, but refrained because he really didn't want to have to explain that one to the Fourth. But he really wanted to. And when he caught whoever had perpetrated this last prank, he'd kill them.

Somewhere in the Seireitei, Matsumoto sneezed.


	65. His Children's Father

**65.**

**Title: **His Children's Father**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Isshin, mentions of others**  
****Word Count: **579  
**A/N:** The other one I posted was meant to be yesterday's, and I've meant to do something from Isshin's perspective for a while.

In hindsight, it was a very complex series of decisions. In the present, it had been a natural series of events. Such was the conclusion Isshin came to, one long summer night up on the roof of the clinic, watching the rising dawn,

When it had happened, he hadn't thought twice about going on that date with the attractive human who could see his spiritual form during that three month long mission stint in the Living World. He hadn't thought twice about kissing her. He hadn't thought that there could have been anything else he would have done when she asked him to stay with her and he finally said yes.

He had treated it like it was another person from the Gotei, not like it was a relationship with a human. He'd acted the same way, diving in and not wanting to resurface more often than absolutely necessary.

He'd used a couple favors to hide in the Living World, to live life out with the woman he loved, and for whom he held no compunction with loving. He'd decided it was worth it.

He'd never wanted to bring his children into the spiritual world. Nonetheless, he heard his daughter and his son having conversations about ghosts like it was the weather, and his other daughter treating it as if it were normal to do so. He'd known that it was unlikely that they wouldn't be able to see them, but he still felt a pang in his chest whenever he thought of it.

But he was absolutely certain that was it. He had presented himself to them as having no affiliation with that world, and so they never asked him. They found it out together.

They grew independent of him, of anyone else, but they didn't dig deeply. They probably didn't know how deep the soil was to dig into. Not yet, anyway. Not ever, he hoped.

And then his son unlocked an extreme amount of spiritual pressure and met the shinigami and his daughter got splitting headaches from hollows in the area.

He didn't know what to do. He felt almost frozen, in limbo. Things spiraled out of control from there.

He talked to Urahara Kisuke the night after his son first met him with Rukia, the shinigami he hid in his closet. Again after the hollowification. Again after the Vizards met him. It was the only way he could hear news about his son's exploits, to hear it though this man, this old friend.

He was torn. His son now had this other side of his life, a side he felt he had to hide. The side that Isshin used to belong to. And there was nothing Isshin could do about it. It took some time, but he made his choice. He was going to support his son as much as possible. Even with that nastily annoying Mod Soul Urahara had given him.

But, no matter how long or how far he would go along with it, he would never call that Mod Soul Ichigo. And, except under the direst circumstance, he couldn't tell Ichigo about where he got the Getsuga Tensho from. He'd have to entrust that side of Ichigo to Kisuke. It hurt too much, even now, to tell his little protector.

Truth is ugly, he heard once. It was one statement he vehemently agreed with.

He only hoped that when the time came to tell his children that they would forgive his selfishness.


	66. Background Noise

**66.**

**Title: **Background Noise**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s): **Sasakibe Choujirou**  
****Word Count: **428  
**A/N:** I tried, really tried to do a rant from Ichigo's Hollow. It completely failed. So we have this. Cheerio! 11-4 was actually his birthday, which is why I chose to write this. I'm not really happy with it, but I'm in a bit of a writing slump. :(

I'm not someone who everyone remembers. I'm not someone who anyone really remembers, really.

It's a truth, and one that came as a function of me doing something that I chose to do years ago. And because I chose that path, keeping to it is more important than garnering any sort of recognition from my peers or my subordinates. That would be too selfish and too self absorbed.

And that would go against my honor code. Those of us who get to our age tend to have stricter honor codes than most. Even Kyouraku Shunsui, for all the appearances and the posturing. Unohana Retsu, Ukitake Jyuushiro, and Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai do as well. It's the one thing the five of us would agree on.

But perhaps the only thing the five of us would agree on. Just because we each have an honor code doesn't mean that it's the _same_ honor code. Far from it. I could never manipulate people like Unohana-san does, or drink sake like Kyouraku-san.

Though I _might_ be a match for him if you compare my tea to his alcohol. I won't touch the stuff. It's disgusting, and there is no reason to want to be physically impaired and intoxicated. And then there's the fact that I take to battle about as rarely as Genryuusai-sama. It's part of the job.

I'm a shadow, a follower. That's what I pledged to be. It's what I chose to be. It's what I argued for, when he asked me to take a Captain's position, and I refused.

I just bode my time, lingering in the First Division.

And then the Lieutenant's position opened up, a couple centuries into the Gotei, under Genryuusai-sama.

It was what I had been waiting for.

We both knew that I was coming to the exam first. We both also knew that it was the highest position I would take, and I knew that it was the epitome of my promise. So he took me as his Lieutenant, after fighting my Bankai. He'd wanted to see how I'd improved.

I'm not someone who is remembered. I'm usually not even noticed. The majority of people seem to treat me like I'm part of the background. But that's alright. Because I am satisfied with myself.

The other thing that is true of people of our age is that we are set in our ways. I am not unwilling to admit that I am, nor that Genryuusai-sama doesn't know that, doesn't forgive it, doesn't emulate his version of it himself.

And, somehow, we are both satisfied.


	67. Increased in Number

**67.**

**Title: **Increased in Number**  
****Prompt: **None  
**Pairing/Character(s):** Renji, Rukia, mentions of a couple others**  
****Word Count: **467  
**A/N:** I felt a spring of inspiration in the wee hours of the morning, so I acted on it. Sorry if this is terribly edited, I'm exhausted.

They clung to each other once again, choosing to mesh their paths in a new direction.

The last time this happened, they decided to go to the Shino Academy and become shinigami.

Now, they had nowhere to go but to train. After the Vandenreich left Soul Society, that's what most people had done anyway. No one had taken their training sessions for what they truly were: an escape from Byakuya's death. The Fourth had gotten to them both in time-barely, but in time-but they had been a little too late for Byakuya.

The Kuchiki elders had placed many expectations on Rukia's shoulders, expectations that she'd have to get to and meet very soon. But for now, they trained.

They trained to grow stronger. Both times, they had lost them because they weren't strong enough to save them. The Shino Academy was a ploy to get stronger. Bankai was a ploy to get stronger, though only Renji had succeeded to date. Ambition and rising in the ranks was a ploy for extra opportunities to gain strength.

Somehow, that strength was never enough. Murphy always seemed to laugh in their faces.

Rukia and Renji trained because a collective need to get stronger was there, and the familiarity, the inevitability of their togetherness, was just there. It had always been there, after Rukia had saved Renji and the others when they had stolen water.

They knew each other like the grip of their zanpakutous. It was even more of a dance than any of Sode no Shirayuki's shikai abilities.

They'd get a new family at one point, or people close enough to count. Of that they weren't certain, but willpower definitely played a role. And willpower they had. And the cold, callous, heartless shits that were the Kuchiki Elders, though Renji kept that thought in his own mind. That one would earn him a few kicks to the shins at the very least.

Renji wondered one thing as they sat under a tree, enjoying a short break in their training regime. Why is it, he'd thought at the time, that every time Rukia and I have a family, they go out and die on us? Why can't we ever be strong enough to save them?

But that's what this training session was for, he steeled himself firmly. We need to make sure that third time's the charm. We will survive. Inuzuri kids were nearly as hard to kill as their mutual friend, Kurosaki.

And the Strawberry agreed heartily that protecting one's family was paramount. That it was something worth training for. Something worth dying for. Then again, the kid would die for a stranger. Altruistic kid with not enough self-preservation.

Because no matter how hard you try, none of your family can ever truly be replaced. Only increased in number.


End file.
